LAFCADIO   HEARN 


a  mount  vert  a  heron 
arg./'  and  the  motto 
"  Ardua  petit  ardea." 


LAFCADIO  HEARN  AND  His  WIFE. 


LAFCADIO   HEARN 


BY 

NINA  H.  KENNARD 


CONTAINING  SOME  LETTERS  FROM  LAFCADIO  HEARN 
TO   HIS  HALF-SISTER,  MRS.  ATKINSON 


NEW  YORK 

D.   APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 
MCMXII 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


REMEMBRANCE 

No  regret  is  vain.  It  is  sorrow  that  spins  the 
thread, — softer  than  moonshine,  thinner  than 
fragrance,  stronger  than  death, — the  Gleipnir- 
chain  of  the  Greater  Memory. 


248913 


PREFACE 

WHEN  Death  has  set  his  seal  on  an  eminent  man 's  career, 
there  is  a  not  unnatural  curiosity  to  know  something  of 
his  life,  as  revealed  by  himself,  particularly  in  letters  to, 
intimate  friends.  "All  biography  ought,  as  much  as  possi 
ble,  to  be  autobiography,"  says  Stevenson,  and  of  all  auto 
biographical  material,  letters  are  the  most  satisfactory. 
Generally  written  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  with  no 
idea  of  subsequent  publication,  they  come,  as  it  were,  like 
butter  fresh  from  the  churning  with  the  impress  of  the 
mind  of  the  writer  stamped  distinctly  upon  them.  One 
letter  of  George  Sand's  written  to  Flaubert,  or  one  of 
Goethe's  to  Frau  von  Stein,  or  his  friend  Stilling,  is  worth 
pages  of  embellished  reminiscences. 

The  circumstances  surrounding  Lafcadio  Hearn's  life 
and  work  impart  a  particular  interest  and  charm  to  his 
correspondence.  He  was,  as  he  himself  imagined,  unfitted 
by  personal  defect  from  being  looked  upon  with  favour  in 
general  society.  This  idea,  combined  with  innate  sensitive 
shyness,  caused  him,  especially  towards  the  latter  years  of 
his  life,  to  become  more  or  less  of  a  recluse,  and  induced 
him  to  seek  an  outlet  in  intellectual  commune  with  literary 
comrades  on  paper.  Hence  the  wonderful  series  of  letters, 
edited  by  Miss  Elizabeth  Bisland  (Mrs.  Wetmore),  to  Kreh- 
biel,  Ellwood  Hendrik,  and  Chamberlain.  Those  to  Pro 
fessor  Chamberlain,  written  during  the  most  productive 
literary  period  of  his  life,  from  the  vantage  ground,  as  it 
were,  of  many  years  of  intellectual  work  and  experience, 
are  particularly  interesting,  giving  a  unique  and  illumi 
nating  revelation  of  a  cultured  and  passionately  enthusi 
astic  nature. 

vii 


PREFACE 

During  his  stay  at  Kumamoto,  when  the  bulk  of  the  let 
ters  to  Chamberlain  were  written,  he  initiated  a  corre 
spondence  with  his  half-sister,  Mrs.  Atkinson,  who  had 
written  to  him  from  Ireland.  His  erratic  nature,  tamed 
and  softened  by  the  birth  of  his  son,  Kazuo,  turned  with 
yearning  towards  his  kindred,  forgotten  for  so  many  years, 
and  these  Atkinson  letters,  though  not  boasting  the  high 
intellectual  level  of  those  to  Professor  Chamberlain,  show 
him,  in  their  affectionate  playfulness,  and  in  the  quaint 
memories  recalled  of  his  childhood,  under  a  new  and  de 
lightful  aspect. 

There  has  been  a  certain  amount  of  friction  with  his 
American  editress,  owing  to  the  fact  of  my  having  been 
given  the  right  to  use  these  letters.  It  is  as  well,  there 
fore,  to  explain  that  owing  to  criticisms  and  remarks  made 
about  people  and  relatives,  in  Hearn's  usual  outspoken 
fashion,  it  would  have  been  impossible,  in  their  original 
form,  to  allow  them  to  pass  into  the  hands  of  any  one  but 
a  person  intimately  connected  with  the  Hearn  family;  but 
I  can  assure  Mrs.  Wetmore  and  Captain  Mitchell  McDon 
ald — those  kind  friends  who  have  done  so  much  for  the 
sake  of  Hearn's  children  and  widow — that  Mrs.  Koizumi, 
financially,  suffers  nothing  from  the  fact  of  the  letters  not 
having  crossed  the  Atlantic. 

Besides  being  indebted  to  Mrs.  Atkinson  for  having  been 
allowed  to  make  extracts  from  the  letters  written  to  her, 
my  thanks  are  due  to  Miss  Edith  Hardy,  her  cousin,  for 
the  use  of  diaries  and  reminiscences ;  also  to  the  Rev. 
Joseph  Guinan,  of  Priests'  House,  Ferbane,  for  having  put 
me  in  communication  with  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  at 
Ushaw;  also  to  Mr.  Achilles  Daunt,  of  Kilcascan  Castle, 
County  Cork,  who  was  apparently  Laf cadio  's  most  intimate 
comrade  at  Ushaw,  and  was  therefore  able  to  give  me  much 
information  concerning  his  college  career. 

I  must  also  express  my  indebtedness  to  friends  in  Japan, 

viii 


PREFACE 

to  Mr.  W.  B.  Mason,  who  was  so  obliging  and  helpful  when 
Mrs.  Atkinson,  her  daughter  and  I  arrived  as  strangers  at 
Yokohama ;  also  to  Mr.  Robert  Young,  who  gave  me  copies 
of  all  the  leading  articles  written  by  Hearn  during  the 
period  of  his  engagement  as  sub-editor  to  the  Kobe  Chron 
icle  and  Japan  Mail. 

But  still  more  are  my  thanks  due  to  the  various  American 
publishers  of  Hearn 's  works  for  permission  to  make  quo 
tations  from  them ;  to  Messrs.  Macmillan  &  Co.,  New  York, 
for  permission  to  quote  from  "Kotto"  and  "  Japan,  an 
Attempt  at  Interpretation  " ;  to  Messrs.  Little,  Brown  & 
Co.,  Boston,  for  permission  to  quote  from  "Exotica  and 
Retrospectives,"  "In  Ghostly  Japan,"  ' ' Shadowings, "  and 
"A  Japanese  Miscellany";  to  Messrs.  Gay  &  Hancock  for 
permission  to  quote  from  "Kokoro";  to  Messrs.  Harper 
for  permission  to  quote  from  "Two  Years  in  the  French 
West  Indies";  and,  above  all,  to  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co.  for  permission  to  quote  from  "Glimpses  of  Unfa 
miliar  Japan,"  and  Hearn 's  "Letters,"  for  without  quot 
ing  from  his  letters  it  would  be  an  almost  futile  task  to 
attempt  to  write  a  biography  of  Lafcadio  Hearn. 

What  a  pathos  there  is  in  the  thought,  that  only  since 
Lafcadio  Hearn  became  "a  handful  of  dust  in  a  little 
earthen  pot"  hidden  away  in  a  Buddhist  grave  in  Japan, 
has  real  appreciation  of  his  genius  reached  England.  On 
the  top  of  the  hill  at  Nishi  Okubo,  isolated  from  the  sound 
of  English  voices,  cut  off  from  the  clasp  of  English  hands, 
he  was  animated  by  an  intense  longing  for  appreciation 
and  recognition  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  literary  world.  "At 
last,"  he  writes  to  a  friend,  "you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that 
my  books  are  receiving  some  little  attention  in  England," 
and  again,  "Favourable  criticism  in  England  is  worth  a 
great  deal  more  than  favourable  criticism  elsewhere." 

How  overwhelmed  he  would  have  been  to  find  his  name 
now  bracketed  amongst  the  nineteenth  century's  best- 

ix 


PREFACE 

known  prose  writers,  to  whom  he  looked  up  from  the  depths 
of  his  own  imagined  insignificance.  Indeed,  in  that  coun 
try  where  he  longed  for  appreciation,  the  idea  is  gradually 
growing,  that  when  many  shining  lights  in  the  literary 
world  of  to-day  stand  unread  on  topmost  library  shelves, 
Lafcadio  Hearn  will  still  be  studied  by  the  scientist,  and 
valued  by  the  cultured,  because  of  the  subtle  comprehen 
sion  and  sympathy  with  which  he  has  presented,  in  ex 
quisite  language,  a  subject  of  ever-increasing  importance 
and  interest — the  soul  of  the  people  destined,  in  the  future, 
to  hold  undisputed  sway  in  the  Far  East. 

Southmead, 

Farnham  Royal,     1911. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I    EARLY  YEARS 1 

II    BOYHOOD ...     23 

III  TRAMORE .     .     33 

IV  USHAW      ..............     40 

V    LONDON 52 

VI    CINCINNATI 65 

VII    VAGABONDAGE 81 

VIII  MEMPHIS        ..............     88 

IX    NEW  ORLEANS 93 

X    WIDER  HORIZONS 102 

XI  LETTERS  AND  PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS  .     .     .     .111 

XII    THE  LADY  OF  A  MYRIAD  SOULS 124 

XIII  RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE      .     ....    w     ....  137 

XIV  WEST   INDIES , 148 

XV    JAPAN       ,     . 160 

XVI    MATSUE ...  172 

XVII    MARRIAGE 179 

XVIII    THE  KATCHITJ-YASHIKI 187 

XIX    KUMAMOTO > 199 

XX    OUT  OF  THE  EAST 231 

XXI    KOBE 238 

XXII    TOKYO 260 

XXIII  USHIGOME 274 

XXIV  NISHI  OKUBO 286 

XXV    His   DEATH 299 

XXVI    His  FUNERAL 310 

XXVII    VISIT  TO  JAPAN 313 

XXVIII    SECOND  VISIT  TO  NISHI  OKUBO 328 

CONCLUSION    ...     *     ....    j 339 

INDEX       „    .    *    .          .«.«.*.»    ^    ,     .    ..  351 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTEATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


LAFCADIO  HEARN  AND  HIS  WIFE  .     .     .     .     .     .  Frontispiece 

MA  JOB  CHARLES  BUSH  HEARN  (HEARN'S  FATHER)     ....  16 

MRS.  ATKINSON   (HEARN'S  HALF-SISTER) 204 

KAZUO  AND  HIS  NURSE    .       .       .       .       .       *       .    .   .       ...       .       .  220 

KAZUO,  AGED  ABOUT  SEVEN  ..........*.  228 

DOROTHY  ATKINSON 232 

KAZUO,  AGED  ABOUT  SEVENTEEN     .     .     .     .     .     ....     .  314 

CARLETON  ATKINSON 318 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 


CHAPTER  I 
EARLY   YEARS 

"Buddhism  finds  in  a  dewdrop  the  symbol  of  that  other  microcosm 
which  has  been  called  the  soul.  .  .  .  What  more,  indeed,  is  man, 
than  just  such  a  temporary  orbing  of  viewless  ultimates — imaging 
sky,  and  land,  and  life — filled  with  perpetual  mysterious  shudderings 
— and  responding  in  some  wise  to  every  stir  of  the  ghostly  forces  that 
environ  him?  ...  In  each  of  a  trillion  of  dewdrops  there  must 
be  differences  infinitesimal  of  atom-thrilling  and  of  reflection,  and  in 
every  one  of  the  countless  pearls  of  ghostly  vapour,  updrawn  from 
the  sea  of  birth  and  death,  there  are  like  infinitesimal  peculiarities. 
Personality,  individuality,  the  ghosts  of  a  dream  in  a  dream!  Life 
infinite  only  there  is;  and  all  that  appears  to  be  is  but  the  thrilling 
of  it — sun,  moon,  and  stars — earth,  sky,  and  sea — and  mind  and 
man,  and  space  and  time,  all  of  them  are  shadows,  the  shadows  come 
and  go;  the  Shadow-maker  shapes  for  ever." 

ON  the  fly-leaf  of  a  small  octavo  Bible,  given  to  Charles 
Hearn  by  his  grandmother,  the  following  entry  may  be 
read:  "Patrick),  Lafcadio,  Tessima,  Carlos  Hearn.  Au 
gust  1850,  at  Santa  Maura." 

The  characters  are  in  cramped  Romaic  Greek,  the  paper 
is  yellow,  the  ink  faded  with  age.  Whether  the  entry  was 
made  by  Lafcadio 's  father  or  mother  it  is  difficult  to  say; 
one  fact  is  certain:  it  announces  the  appearance  on  this 
world's  stage  of  one  of  the  most  picturesque  and  remark 
able  figures  of  the  end  of  the  last  century. 

Those  who  like  to  indulge  in  the  fascinating  task  of 

1 


•  •• - HEARN 

tracing  the  origin  of  genius  will  find  few  instances  offering 
more  striking  coincidences  or  curious  ancestral  inheritances 
than  that  afforded  by  Lafcadio  Hearn. 

On  his  father's  side  he  came  of  the  Anglo-Hibernian 
stock — mixture  of  Saxon  and  Celt — which  has  produced 
poets,  orators,  soldiers,  signal  lights  in  the  political,  lit 
erary,  and  military  history  of  the  United  Kingdom  for  the 
last  two  centuries.  We  have  no  proof  that  Lafcadio's 
grandfather — as  has  been  stated — came  over  with  Lionel 
Sackville,  Duke  of  Dorset,  when  he  was  appointed  lord 
lieutenant  of  Ireland  in  1731.  The  Rev.  Daniel  Hearn 
undoubtedly  acted  as  private  chaplain  to  His  Grace,  and 
about  the  same  time — as  recognition  for  services  done,  we 
conclude — became  possessed  of  the  .property  of  Correagh  in 
the  County  of  Westmeath. 

A  Roman  Catholic  branch  of  the  Hearn  family  is  to  be 
found  in  County  Waterford — has  been  settled  there  for 
centuries.  At  Tramore,  the  seaside  place  near  the  city  of 
Waterford,  where  Lafcadio  spent  several  summers  at  the 
Molyneuxs'  house  with  his  great-aunt,  Mrs.  Brenane,  the 
Rev.  Thomas  Hearn  is  still  remembered  as  a  prominent 
figure  in  the  Roman  Catholic  movement  against  Protestant 
ism.  He  founded  the  present  cathedral,  also  the  Catholic 
College  in  Waterford,  and  introduced  one  of  the  first  of 
the  Conventual  Orders  into  the  South  of  Ireland.  It  is 
through  these  Waterford  Hearns  that  Henry  Molyneux 
claimed  relationship  with  the  County  Westmeath  portion 
of  the  family. 

As  to  the  English  origin  of  the  family,  the  Irish  Hearns 
have  an  impression  that  it  was  a  West  Country  ( Somerset 
shire)  stock.  Records  certainly  of  several  Daniel  Hearns 
— it  is  the  Christian  name  that  furnishes  the  clue — occur 
in  ecclesiastical  documents  both  in  Wiltshire  and  Somer 
setshire. 

In  Burke 's  "  Colonial  Gentry "  there  is  a  pedigree  given 

2 


EARLY  YEARS 

of  a  branch  of  Archdeacon  Hearn's  descendants,  who  mi 
grated  to  Australia  about  fifty  years  ago.  There  it  is 
stated  that  the  Hearn  stock  was  originally  "cradled  in 
Northumberland. "  Ford  Castle  in  that  county  belonged 
to  the  Herons — pronounced  Hearn — to  which  belonged  Sir 
Hugh  de  Heron,  a  well-known  North  Country  baronet, 
mentioned  in  Sir  "Walter  Scott's  "Marmion."  The  crest, 
as  with  Lafcadio's  Irish  Protestant  branch  of  Hearns,  was 
a  heron,  with  the  motto,  "The  Heron  Seeks  the  Heights." 

Mrs.  Koizumi,  Hearn's  widow,  tells  us  that  her  husband 
pronounced  his  name  "Her'un,"  "and  selected  'Sageha 
No  Tsuru' — heron  with  wings  down — for  the  design  which 
he  made  to  accompany  his  name  and  number  at  the  Literary 
College,  Tokyo  University."  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
the  place-names  and  families,  bearing  the  Hearn  name  in 
various  countries,  are  of  different,  often  entirely  distinct 
origin.  Nevertheless,  the  various  modifications  of  the  word 
— namely,  Erne,  Home,  Hearn,  Hern,  Herne,  Hearon, 
Hirn,  etc.,  are  derived  from  one  root.  In  the  Teutonic 
languages  it  is  irren,  to  wander,  stray,  err  or  become  out 
law.  Him,  the  brain  or  organ  of  the  wandering  spirit  or 
ghost,  the  Latin  errare  and  Frankish  errant,  with  the  Celtic 
err  names  are  related,  though  the  derivation  comes  from 
ancient,  Indo-Germanic  languages.  In  the  West  Country 
in  England  the  name  Hearn  is  well-known  as  a  gipsy  one, 
and  in  the  "Provincilia  Dictionary"  for  Northumberland, 
amongst  other  worthies  of  note,  a  certain  ' '  Francis  Heron ' ' 
or  "Hearn,"  King  of  the  "Faws"  or  gipsies,  is  referred  to. 

I  give  all  these  notes  because  they  bear  out  the  tradition, 
stoutly  maintained  by  some  members  of  the  family,  that 
gipsy  blood  runs  in  their  veins.  An  aunt  of  Lafcadio's 
tells  a  story  of  having  once  met  a  band  of  gipsies  in  a 
country  lane  in  Ireland ;  one  of  them,  an  old  woman,  offered 
to  tell  Miss  Hearn's  fortune.  After  examining  her  hand, 
she  raised  her  head,  looked  at  her  meaningly,  and  tapping 

3 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

her  palm  with  her  finger  said,  "You  are  one  of  us,  the 
proof  is  here."  Needless  to  say  that  Lafcadio  valued  a 
possible  gipsy  ancestor  more  than  all  the  archdeacons  and 
lieutenant-colonels  that  figured  in  his  pedigree,  and  was 
wont  to  show  with  much  pride  the  mark  on  his  thumb  sup 
posed  to  be  the  infallible  sign  of  Romany  descent. 

Some  foreign  exotic  strain  is  undoubtedly  very  apparent 
in  many  members  of  the  Hearn  family.  Lafcadio 's  marked 
physiognomy,  dark  complexion,  and  black  hair  could  not 
have  been  an  exclusive  inheritance  from  his  mother's  side, 
for  it  can  be  traced  in  Charles  Hearn 's  children  by  his 
second  wife,  and  again  in  their  children.  This  exotic  ele 
ment — quite  distinct  from  the  Japanese  type — is  so  strong 
as  to  have  impressed  itself  on  Hearn 's  eldest  son  by  his 
Japanese  wife,  creating  a  most  remarkable  likeness  between 
him  and  his  cousin,  Mrs.  Atkinson's  son.  The  near-sighted 
eyes,  the  marked  eyebrows,  the  dark  brown  hair,  the  soft 
voice  and  gentle  manner,  are  characteristics  owned  by  both 
Carleton  Atkinson  and  Kazuo  Koizumi.  History  says  that 
the  original  birthplace  of  the  gipsies  was  India.  Even  in 
Egypt,  the  country  claimed  by  the  gipsies  themselves  as 
the  place  where  their  race  originated,  the  native  gipsy  is 
not  Egyptian  in  appearance,  but  Hindoo.  Curious  to 
think  that  Lafcadio  Hearn,  the  interpreter  of  Buddhism 
and  oriental  legend  to  the  West,  may,  on  his  father's  side, 
have  been  descended  from  Avatars,  whose  souls  were  looked 
upon  as  gods,  centuries  ago,  in  India. 

On  his  mother's  side  the  skein  of  Lafcadio 's  lineage  is 
still  more  full  of  knots  and  entanglements  than  on  his 
father's.  It  is  impossible  to  state  with  any  amount  of  ac 
curacy  to  what  nationality  Mrs.  Charles  Hearn  belonged. 
It  has  been  generally  taken  for  granted  that  she  was  Greek ; 
Lafcadio  used  to  say  so  himself.  Some  of  the  Hearns,  on 
the  other  hand,  maintain  that  she  was  Maltese,  which  is 
quite  probable.  Owing  to  the  agricultural  richness  of  the 

4 


EARLY  YEARS 

Ionian  Islands,  Italians,  Greeks,  Levantine  Jews,  and  Mal 
tese  had  all  taken  up  their  abode  in  the  Sept-Insula  at 
various  times  and  seasons.  Lafcadio 's  third  name,  Tes- 
sima,  was  his  mother 's  maiden-name,  and  is  one  that  figures 
continually  in  Maltese  census-  and  rent-rolls.  When  Mrs. 
Hearn  separated  from  her  husband  to  return  to  her  own 
family  she  went  to  Malta,  not  to  the  Ionian  Islands.  The 
fact,  as  Lafcadio  states,  that  he  could  only  stammer  half 
Italian,  half  Romaic,  when  he  first  arrived  in  Dublin,  rather 
points  to  a  Maltese  origin.  "What  wild  Arabic  blood  may 
he  not,  therefore,  have  inherited  on  his  mother's  side? 
For,  as  is  well-known,  in  times  gone  by  Arab  tribes,  mi 
grating  from  the  deserts  of  Asia  and  Africa,  overran  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean  and  settled  in  Malta,  inter 
marrying  with  the  original  Venetian  Maltese. 

"We  are  all  compounds  of  innumerable  lives,  each  a  sum 
in  an  infinite  addition — the  dead  are  not  dead,  they  live  j 
in  all  of  us,  and  move  us,  stirring  faintly  in  every  heart 
beat."  Certainly  Lafcadio  was  an  exemplification  of  his 
own  theory.  During  the  course  of  his  strange  life  all  the 
characteristics  of  his  manifold  outcome  manifested  them 
selves — the  nomadic  instincts  of  the  Romany  and  Arab,  the 
revolutionary  spirit  of  the  Celt,  the  luxuriant  imagination 
of  the  oriental,  with  that  unquenchable  spark  of  industry 
and  energy  inherited  from  his  Anglo-Saxon  forbears. 

From  the  time  they  settled  in  Ireland  the  Hearns  served 
their  country  for  the  most  part  in  church  and  army. 
Lafcadio 's  grandfather  was  colonel  of  the  43rd  Regiment, 
which  he  commanded  at  the  battle  of  Vittoria  in  the  Penin 
sular  War.  He  married  Elizabeth  Holmes,  member  of  a 
family  distinguished  in  Irish  legal  and  literary  circles. 
To  her  children  she  bequeathed  musical  and  artistic  gifts 
of  no  mean  order.  From  his  father  Lafcadio  inherited  a 
remarkable  aptitude  for  drawing,  and,  as  is  easy  to  see 
from  his  letters  to  Krehbiel,  an  ardent  love  of  music. 

5 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Elizabeth  Holmes 's  second  son,  Richard  Holmes  Hearn, 
insisted  while  quite  a  boy  on  setting  forth  to  study  art  in 
the  studios  in  Paris.  He  never  made  money  or  a  great 
name,  but  some  of  his  pictures,  inspired  by  the  genius  of 
Corot  and  Millet,  are  very  suggestive  and  beautiful.  He 
was  quite  as  unconventional  in  his  mode  of  thought,  and 
quite  as  erratic  and  unbusinesslike  as  his  famous  nephew 
— " Veritable  blunderers,"  as  Lafcadio  says,  "in  the  ways 
of  the  world." 

Writing  from  Japan  to  his  half-sister,  Mrs.  Atkinson, 
about  some  photographs  she  had  sent  him  of  her  children, 
he  says :  ' '  They  seem  to  represent  new  types ;  that  makes 
no  difference  in  one  sense  and  a  good  deal  of  difference  in 
another.  I  think,  though  I  am  not  sure,  as  I  have  never 
known  you  or  the  other  half-sister,  that  we  Hearns  all 
lacked  something.  The  something  is  very  much  lacking  in 
me,  and  in  my  brother.  I  mean  *  force'  ...  I  think 
we  of  father's  blood  are  all  a  little  soft  of  soul  .  .  . 
very  sweet  in  a  woman,  not  so  good  in  a  man.  What  you 
call  the  'strange  mixture  of  weakness  and  firmness'  is  es 
sentially  me ;  my  firmness  takes  the  shape  of  an  unconquer 
able  resistance  in  particular  directions — guided  by  feeling 
mostly,  and  not  always  in  the  directions  most  suited  to  my 
interests.  There  must  have  been  very  strong  characteris 
tics  in  father's  inheritance  to  have  made  so  strong  a  re 
semblance  in  his  children  by  two  different  mothers — and 
I  want  so  much  to  find  out  if  the  resemblance  is  also  psycho 
logical.  ' ' 

Charles  Bush  Hearn,  Lafcadio 's  father,  elected  to  enter 
the  army,  as  his  father  and  grandfather  had  done  before 
him.  According  to  Hart's  "Army  List"  he  joined  the 
45th  Nottinghamshire  Regiment  of  Foot  as  assistant  sur 
geon  on  April  15th,  1842.  In  the  year  1846  he  was  sent 
on  the  Medical  Staff  to  Corfu.  The  revolutionary  spirit 
which  swept  over  Europe  in  1849  infected  the  Ionian 

6 


EARLY  YEARS 

Islands  as  well  as  the  mainland  of  Greece.  At  Cephalonia 
they  nominated  a  regent  of  their  own  nationality,  and 
strenuous  efforts  were  made  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  the 
English  government.  At  the  request  of  Viscount  Seaton, 
the  then  governor,  additional  troops  were  sent  from  Eng 
land  to  restore  order.  When  they  arrived,  they,  and  the 
other  regiments  stationed  at  Corfu,  were  quartered  on  the 
inhabitants  of  the  various  islands. 

Oriental  ideas  on  the  subject  of  women  still  existed  in 
this  half -Eastern  region.  Ladies  hardly  ever  appeared  at 
any  of  the  entertainments.  If  a  dinner  was  given  none  but 
men  were  present.  Many  stories  were  told  of  the  expedi 
ents  resorted  to  by  English  officers  in  their  endeavours  to 
institute  a  closer  intercourse  with  the  female  portion  of 
the  population.  Now  that  troops  were  quartered  in  their 
homes  this  state  of  things  was  speedily  changed.  Young 
ladies  were  induced  to  join  their  guests  in  riding,  boating, 
and  walking  expeditions.  Picnics  were  instituted  at  which 
people  got  lost  in  the  woods,  and  did  not  return  until  the 
small  hours  of  the  morning,  pleasure  boats  went  ashore, 
necessitating  the  rescue  of  lovely  ladies  from  the  danger  of 
the  deep ;  the  so-called  ' '  pleasure  boats ' '  being  presumably 
some  of  the  numerous  ferry  boats  that  plied  to  and  fro 
between  the  islands. 

But  in  telling  the  love  story  of  Charles  Hearn  and  Rosa 
Tessima,  there  is  really  no  need  to  conjure  up  imaginary 
shipwrecks,  or  lost  pathways.  Good-looking,  clever,  a 
smart  officer,  handling  sword  or  guitar  with  equal  dex 
terity,  singing  an  Irish  or  Italian  love  song  with  a  melodi 
ous  tenor  voice,  Charles  Hearn  was  gifted  with  all  the 
qualifications  for  the  captivation  of  a  young  girl's  fancy, 
and  by  all  accounts  he  had  never  allowed  these  qualifica 
tions  to  deteriorate  for  want  of  use. 

Only  the  other  day,  I  was  looking  over  some  old  papers 
in  an  Irish  country  house  with  a  friend.  Amongst  them 

7 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

we  came  across  a  poem  by  Charles  Bush  Hearn,  written 
from  Correagh,  the  Hearns'  place  in  County  Westmeath, 
to  a  lady  who  at  that  time  was  very  beautiful  and  an  heir 
ess.  A  lock  of  hair  was  enclosed : — 

"Dearest  and  nearest  to  my  heart, 
Thou  art  fairer  than  the  silver  moon, 
And  I  trust  to  see  thee  soon." 

There  are  quite  half-a-dozen  verses  of  the  same  quality 
ending  up  with  the  following : — 

"Adieu,  sweet  maid!  my  heart  still  bleeds  with  love 
And  evermore  will  beat  for  thee! !" 

"Alas,  I  am  no  poet!"  Lafcadio  exclaims,  half  a  century 
later.  The  power  of  song  was  apparently  not  a  gift  his 
father  had  to  bequeath. 

Before  going  to  Corfu  the  young  officer  had  fallen  in 
love  with  a  countrywoman  of  his  own;  means,  however, 
were  lacking  on  both  sides,  and  she  was  persuaded  by  rela 
tions  to  accept  a  richer  suitor.  While  still  smarting  under 
the  pangs  of  disappointed  love,  lonely,  heartsore,  Rosa 
Tessima  crossed  his  path,  and  the  fate  of  both  was  sealed. 
Where  they  met  we  know  not.  The  Tessimas  were  in 
habitants  of  the  Island  of  Cerigo,  but  communication  be 
tween  the  islands  was  frequent. 

As  to  the  stories,  which  subsequently  drifted  to  relations 
in  Ireland,  of  the  girl's  brothers  having  attacked  and 
stabbed  Charles  Hearn  in  consequence  of  the  injury  done 
to  their  sister's  reputation,  it  is  more  than  likely  they  are 
entirely  legendary.  The  Ionian  male  had  no  exalted  opin 
ion  of  women,  and  was  not  likely  to  resort  to  revenge  for 
imaginary  wrongs.  There  may  have  been  some  difficulty 
with  regard  to  her  dowry,  as  in  those  days  the  sons  in 
herited  the  land  and  were  obliged,  when  a  daughter  left 
her  paternal  home,  to  bestow  upon  her  the  settlement  she 

8 


EARLY  YEARS 

was  entitled  to ;  this  was  sometimes  accompanied  by  a  con 
siderable  amount  of  friction. 

Lafcadio  was  born  at  Santa  Maura,  the  modern  name 
for  the  ancient  Leucadia  of  the  Greeks.     Charles  Hearn, 
presumably,  was  transferred  there  by  some  necessity  in  his 
profession    as    military    surgeon.     The    island,    excepting  j 
Corfu,  is  the  largest  in  the  Sept-Insula.     On  the  southern  ' 
extremity  of  the  western  portion  of  the  coast  is  situated 
the  rock  whence  Sappho  is  supposed  to  have  sought  "thei 
end  of  all  life 's  ends. ' '    Not  far  off  stand  the  ruins  of  ! 
the  Temple  of  Apollo.     A  few  stones  piled  together  still 
mark  the  spot  where  ceremonies  were  celebrated  at  the 
altar  in  honour  of  the  sun-god.     The  groves  of  cypress  and  J 
ilex  that  clothe  the  slope  were  in  days  gone  by  supposed 
to  be  peopled  by  the  divinities  of  ancient  Greece.     A  crys 
talline  stream  of  water,  bubbling  down  the  hillside   by 
the  temple  wall,  runs  into  a  well,  familiarly  known  as  the 
Fountain  of  Arethusa.     Standing  in  the  courtyard  of  the 
temple  a  glimpse  can  be  caught  of  the  Island  of  Ithaca 
quivering  in  the  luminous  haze,  with  the  Gulf  of  Corinth 
and  the  Greek  hills  beyond. 

Although  he  left  the  Ionian  Islands  in  infancy,  the  idea 
of  having  been  born  surrounded  by  associations  of  the 
ancient  Hellenic  world — the  world  that  represented  for 
him  the  ideal  of  supreme  artistic  beauty — impressed  itself 
upon  Hearn 's  imagination.  Often,  later,  amidst  the  god- 
haunted  shrines  and  ancient  groves  and  cemeteries  of 
Japan,  vague  ancestral  dreams  of  the  mystery  of  his  birth 
place  in  the  distant  Greek  island  with  its  classic  memories, 
stirred  dimly  within  him.  After  seeing,  for  instance,  the 
ancient  cemetery  of  Hamamura,  in  Izumo,  he  pictures  a 
dream  of  a  woman,  sitting  in  a  temple  court — his  mother, 
presumably — chanting  a  Celtic  dirge,  and  a  vague  vision 
of  the  celebrated  Greek  poetess  who  had  wandered  amidst 
the  ilex-groves  and  temples  of  the  ancient  Leucadia.  .  .  . 

9 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Awakening,  he  heard,  in  the  night,  the  moaning  of  the 
real  sea — the  muttering  of  the  Tide  of  the  Returning 
Ghosts. 

Towards  the  end  of  1851,  England  agreed  to  relinquish 
her  military  occupation  of  the  greater  portion  of  the  Ionian 
Islands.  The  troops  were  withdrawn,  and  Charles  Hearn 
received  orders  to  proceed  with  his  regiment  from  Corfu  to 
the  West  Indies.  With  a  want  of  foresight  typically  Hi 
bernian,  he  arranged  that  his  wife  and  two-year-old  son 
should  go  to  Dublin,  to  remain  with  his  relations  during 
the  term  of  his  service  in  the  West  Indies.  The  trio  pro 
ceeded  together  as  far  as  Malta.  How  long  husband  and 
wife  stopped  there,  or  if  she  remained  after  he  had  left 
with  his  regiment,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 

Years  afterwards,  Lafcadio  declared  that  he  was  almost 
certain  of  having  been  in  Malta  as  a  child,  and  that  he 
specially  remembered  the  queer  things  told  him  about  the 
Old  Palace,  the  knights  and  a  story  about  a  monk,  who, 
on  the  coming  of  the  French  had  the  presence  of  mind  to 
paint  the  gold  chancel  railings  with  green  paint.  Pre 
cocious  the  little  boy  may  have  been,  but  it  is  scarcely 
possible  that  his  brain  could  have  been  retentive  enough  to 
bear  all  this  in  memory  when  but  two  years  old.  He  must 
have  been  told  it  later  by  his  father,  or  read  a  description 
of  the  island  in  some  book  of  history  or  travels.  From 
Malta  Mrs.  Hearn  proceeded  to  Paris,  to  stop  with  her  hus 
band's  artist  brother,  Richard.  Charles  Hearn  had  written 
to  him  beforehand,  begging  him  to  smooth  the  way  for  his 
wife's  arrival  in  Dublin.  His  brother  ''Dick"— -indeed,  all 
his  belongings — were  devoted  to  good-looking,  easy-going 
Charles,  but  it  was  with  many  qualms  and  much  hesitation 
that  Richard  undertook  the  task  entrusted  to  him. 

Charles  Hearn 's  mother  and  an  unmarried  aunt,  Susan, 
lived  in  Dublin  at  Gardner's  Place.  " Auntie  Sue,"  as 
the  spinster  lady  is  always  referred  to  by  the  present  gen- 

10 


EARLY  YEARS 

eration  of  Hearns,  was  the  possessor  of  a  ready  pen.  A 
novel  of  hers  entitled  " Felicia"  is  still  extant  in  manu 
script;  the  melodramatic  imagination,  lack  of  construction, 
grammar  and  punctuation,  peculiar  to  'the  feminine  ama 
teur  novelist  of  that  day,  are  very  much  in  evidence.  She 
also  kept  a  diary  recording  the  monotonous  routine  usual 
to  the  life  of  a  middle-aged  spinster  in  the  backwater  of 
social  circles  in  Dublin ;  the  arrival  and  departure  of  serv 
ants,  the  interchange  of  visits  with  relations  and  friends ; 
each  day  marked  by  a  text  from  the  Gospels  and  Epistles. 

Because  of  the  political  and  religious  animus  existing 
between  Protestants  and  Papists  in  Ireland,  orthodox 
circles  were  far  more  prejudiced  and  bigoted  than  the  nar 
rowest  provincial  society  in  England.  All  the  Hearns  be 
longing  to  the  "Westmeath  branch  of  the  family  were 
members  of  the  Irish  Protestant  squirearchy,  leaders  of 
religious  movements,  presiding  with  great  vigour  at  church 
meetings  and  parochial  functions;  it  is  easy,  therefore,  to 
understand  the  trepidation  with  which  they  viewed  the 
arrival  of  this  foreign  relation  of  theirs,  a  Roman  Catholic, 
who  would  consort  with  priests,  and  indulge  in  religious 
observances  hitherto  anathema  to  thoroughgoing  Protes 
tants.  Richard  Hearn,  thoroughly  appreciating  all  the 
difficulties  of  the  situation,  thought  it  expedient,  appar 
ently,  to  leave  his  sister-in-law  in  Liverpool  and  .go  on  in 
front,  to  propitiate  prejudices  and  mitigate  opinions. 

On  July  28th,  1852,  we  read  in  Susan  Hearn 's  diary: 
"Dear  Richard  arrived  at  10  o'clock  from  Liverpool,  and 
was  obliged  to  return  at  7  o  'clock  on  Friday  evening.  We 
trust  to  see  him  again  in  the  course  of  a  day  or  two,  accom 
panied  by  Charles'  wife  and  son.  May  Almighty  God  bless 
and  prosper  the  whole  arrangement."  Kindly,  warm 
hearted  maiden  lady!  Providence  is  not  wont  to  prosper 
arrangements  made  in  direct  opposition  to  all  providential 
possibilities.  On  July  29th  she  writes:  "A  letter  from 

11 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Charles,  dated  the  25th  June  from  Grenada,  "West  Indies ! 
Dear,  beloved  fellow !  in  perfect  health,  but  in  great  anxiety 
until  he  hears  of  his  wife  and  son's  arrival.  I  trust  we 
shall  have  them  soon  with  us."  Then  on  August  1st: 
"Richard  returned  at  7  this  morning  accompanied  by  our 
beloved  Charles'  wife  and  child,  and  a  nice  young  person 
as  attendant.  Rosa  we  are  all  inclined  to  love,  and  her 
little  son  is  an  interesting,  darling  child."  The  "nice 
young  person"  who  came  with  Mrs.  Hearn,  as  attendant 
and  interpreter,  was  an  important  factor  in  the  misunder 
standings  that  arose  between  Rosa  and  her  relations,  and 
later,  in  the  troubles  between  husband  and  wife.  Mrs. 
Hearn,  unable  to  speak  a  word  of  English,  was  influenced 
and  prejudiced  by  meanings  imparted  to  perfectly  harm 
less  actions  and  statements. 

Probably  sensitive  to  sunlight,  colour,  and  climate,  as 
was  her  son,  having  passed  her  life  hitherto  in  a  southern 
land  amidst  orange-groves  and  vineyards,  overlooking  a 
sea  blue  as  the  sky  overarching  it,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  the 
depressing  influences  to  Rosa  Hearn  of  finding  herself  be 
neath  an  atmosphere  heavy  with  smoke,  and  thick  with 
fog,  the  murky,  sunless  world  of  sordid  streets,  such  as 
constitutes  the  major  portion  of  the  capital  of  Ireland. 

The  description,  given  by  those  who  are  impartial  judges, 
rather  divests  Rosa  of  the  poetical  romance  that  her  son 
has  cast  around  her  memory.  She  was  handsome,  report 
says,  with  beautiful  eyes,  but  ill-tempered  and  unre 
strained,  sometimes  even  violent.  Musical,  but  too  indolent 
to  cultivate  the  gift,  clever,  but  absolutely  uneducated,  she 
lived  the  life  of  an  oriental  woman,  lying  all  day  long  on 
a  sofa,  complaining  of  the  dulness  of  her  surroundings,  of 
the  climate  of  Ireland,  of  the  impossibility  of  learn 
ing  the  language.  To  her  children  she  was  capricious  and 
tyrannical,  at  times  administering  rather  severe  castiga- 
tion. 

12 


EARLY  YEARS 

When  people  fell  short  of  the  height  to  which  he  had 
raised  them  in  imagination,  when  he  discovered  that  they 
had  not  all  the  qualities  he  imagined  them  to  possess, 
Lafcadio,  as  a  rule,  promptly  cast  them  from  their  high 
estate,  and  nothing  was  too  bitter  to  say  or  think  of  them. 
In  his  mother's  case,  before  the  searchlight  of  reality  had 
time  to  dissipate  the  illusion,  she  had  passed  from  his  ken 
forever. 

When  his  own  life  was  transformed  by  the  birth  of  his 
first  child,  the  idea  of  maternal  affection  was  deepened  and 
expanded,  and  gradually  became  connected  with  a  belief  in 
ancestral  influences  and  transmission  of  a  ' '  Karma ' '  ruling 
human  existence  from  generation  to  generation.  He  then 
imagines  the  beauty  of  a  mother's  smile  surviving  the  uni 
verse,  the  sweetness  of  her  voice  echoing  in  worlds  still 
uncreated,  and  the  eloquence  of  her  faith  animating 
prayers  made  to  the  gods  of  another  time,  another  heaven. 

Years  later  he  makes  an  eloquent  appeal  to  his  brother, 
asking  him  if  he  does  not  remember  the  dark  and  beautiful 
face  that  used  to  bend  over  his  cradle,  or  the  voice  which 
told  him  each  night  to  cross  his  fingers,  after  the  old  Greek 
orthodox  fashion,  and  utter  the  words,  "In  the  name  of 
the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

^When  he  saw  his  brother's  photograph,  his  heart 
throbbed;  for  here,  he  felt,  was  the  unknown  being  in 
whom  his  mother's  life  was  perpetuated,  with  the  same 
strange  impulses,  the  same  longings,  the  same  resolves  as 
his  own. 

"My  mother's  face  only  I  remember, "  he  says  in  a  letter 
to  his  sister,  Mrs.  Atkinson,  written  from  Kumamoto,  '  '  and 
I  remember  it  for  this  reason.  One  day  it  bent  over  me 
caressingly.  It  was  delicate  and  dark,  with  large  black 
eyes — very  large.  A  childish  impulse  came  to  me  to  slap 
it.  I  slapped  it — simply  to  see  the  result,  perhaps.  The 
result  was  immediate  severe  castigation,  and  I  remember 

13 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

both  crying  and  feeling  I  deserved  what  I  got.  I  felt  no 
resentment,  although  the  aggressor  in  such  cases  is  usually 
the  most  indignant  at  consequences." 

The  only  person  with  whom  Mrs.  Charles  Hearn  seems 
to  have  forgathered  amongst  her  Irish  relations  was  a  Mrs. 
Justin  Brenane — "  Sally  Brenane,"  Charles  Hearn 's  aunt, 
on  the  maternal  side.  She  had  married  a  Mr.  Justin 
Brenane — a  Roman  Catholic  gentleman  of  considerable 
means — and  had  adopted  his  religion  with  all  the  ardour 
of  a  convert.  Poor,  weak,  bigoted,  kindly  old  soul!  She 
and  Mrs.  Charles  Hearn  had  the  bond  in  common  of  be 
longing  to  a  religion  antagonistic  to  the  prejudices  of  the 
people  with  whom  their  lot  was  cast ;  she  also,  at  that  time, 
was  devoted  to  her  nephew  Charles.  Never  having  had  a 
child  of  her  own,  she  longed  for  something  young  on  which 
to  lavish  the  warmth  of  her  affection.  The  delicate,  eerie 
little  black-haired  boy,  Patricio  Lafcadio,  became  prime 
favourite  in  the  Brenane  establishment  at  Rathmines,  and 
the  old  lady  was  immediately  fired  with  the  idea  of  having 
him  educated  at  a  Roman  Catholic  school,  and  of  making 
him  heir  to  the  ample  fortune  and  property  in  the  County 
of  Wexford  left  to  her  by  her  husband. 

In  the  comfort  and  luxury  of  Mrs.  Brenane 's  house,  Mrs. 
Charles  Hearn  found,  for  the  first  time  since  she  had  left 
the  Ionian  Islands,  something  she  could  call  a  home.  She 
enjoyed,  too,  in  her  indolent  fashion,  driving  in  Mrs. 
Brenane 's  carriage,  a  large  barouche,  in  which  the  old  lady 
"took  an  airing "  every  day,  driving  into  Dublin  when  she 
was  at  her  house  at  Rathmines  for  shopping,  or  to  the  ca 
thedral  for  Mass.  A  curious  group,  the  foreign-looking 
lady  with  the  flashing  eyes,  accompanied  by  her  dark- 
haired,  olive-complexion ed  small  boy,  garbed  in  strange 
garments,  with  earrings  in  his  ears,  as  different  in  appear 
ance  as  was  possible  to  the  rosy-cheeked,  sturdy  Irish  "gos- 

14 


EARLY  YEARS 

soons"  who  crowded  round,  gaping  and  amused,  to  gaze  at 
them. 

Mrs.  Brenane  herself  was  a  noteworthy  figure,  always 
dressed  in  marvellous,  quaintly-shaped,  black  silk  gowns. 
Not  a  speck  of  dust  was  allowed  to  touch  these  garments,  a 
large  holland  sheet  being  invariably  laid  on  the  seat  of  the 
carriage,  and  wrapped  round  her  by  the  footman,  when 
she  went  for  her  daily  drive. 

In  July  and  August,  1853,  there  are  various  entries  in 
Susan  Hearn's  diary,  relating  to  her  brother,  Charles 
Hearn,  in  the  West  Indies.  Yellow  fever  had  broken  out 
and  had  appeared  amongst  the  troops.  Charles  had  been 
ill,  "a  severe  bilious  attack  and  intermittent  fever." 
Then,  on  August  19th:  "  Letters  from  dearest  Charles, 
dated  July  28th,  in  great  hopes  that  he  may  be  sent  home 
with  the  invalids ;  so  we  may  see  him  the  latter  end  of 
September,  or  the  beginning  of  October. ' '  Then  comes  an 
entry  that  he  had  "sailed  with  the  other  invalids  for 
Southampton." 

The  prospect  was  all  sunlight,  not  the  veriest  film  of  a 
cloud  was  apparent  to  onlookers;  yet  the  air  was  charged 
with  the  elements  of  storm ! 

Charles  Hearn  was  a  man  particularly  susceptible  to 
feminine  grace  and  charm.  He  found  on  his  return  a 
wife  whose  beauty  had  vanished,  the  light  washed  out  of 
her  eyes  by  weeping,  a  figure  grown  fat  and  unwieldy, 
lines  furrowed  on  the  beautiful  face  by  discontent  and 
ill-humour;  but,  above  all  other  determining  causes  for 
bringing  about  the  unhappiness  of  this  ill-matched  pair, 
Charles  Hearn  had  heard  by  chance,  from  a  fellow-officer 
on  the  way  home,  that  his  first  love,  the  only  woman  to 
whom  his  wandering  fancy  had  been  constant,  was  free 
again,  and  was  living  as  a  widow  in  Dublin. 

What  took  place  between  husband  and  wife  these  fateful 

15 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

days  can  only  be  surmised,  but  these  significant  entries 
occur  in  Susan  Hearn's  diary.  "October  8th,  1853. 
Beloved  Charles  arrived  in  perfect  health,  looking  well  and 
happy;  through  the  Great  Mercy  of  Almighty  God,  my 
eyes  once  more  behold  him."  " Sunday,  October  9th. 
Charles,  his  wife,  and  little  boy,  dined  with  us  in  Gardner's 
Place,  all  well  and  happy.  That  night  we  were  plunged 
into  deep  affliction  by  the  sudden  and  dangerous  illness  of 
Rosa,  Charles'  wife.  She  still  continues  ill,  but  hopes  are 
entertained  of  her  recovery."  After  this  entry  the  diary 
breaks  off  abruptly,  and  we  are  left  to  fill  in  details  by 
family  statements  and  hearsay. 

An  inherited  predisposition  to  insanity  probably  ran  in 
Rosa's  veins.  We  are  told  that,  during  her  husband's 
absence  in  the  West  Indies,  whilst  stopping  at  Rathmines 
with  Mrs.  Brenane,  she  had  endeavoured  to  throw  herself 
out  of  the  window  when  suffering  from  an  attack  of  mania. 
Now,  whether  in  consequence  of  the  passionate  jealousy 
of  her  southern  nature,  which  for  months  had  been  worked 
upon  by  that  "nice  person,"  Miss  Butcher,  or  whether  the 
same  predisposition  broke  out  again,  we  only  know  that 
the  restraining  link  of  self-control,  that  keeps  people  on 
the  right  side  of  the  ' '  thin  partition, ' '  gave  way.  Gloomy 
fits  of  silence  and  depression  were  succeeded  by  scenes  of 
such  violence  that  the  poor  creature  had  ultimately  to  be 
put  under  restraint.  The  attack  was  apparently  tempo 
rary.  Daniel  James,  her  second  son,  was  born  a  year  later 
in  Dublin,  after  the  departure  of  her  husband  for  the 
Crimea. 

Charles  Hearn  was  undoubtedly  a  most  gallant  soldier; 
he  fought  at  the  battles  of  Alma  and  Inkermann,  through 
the  siege  of  Sevastopol,  and  returned  in  March,  1855. 
After  this  his  regiment  was  stationed  for  some  little  time 
at  the  Curragh.  Years  afterwards  Lafcadio  described  the 
scarlet-coated,  gold-laced  officers  who  frequented  the  house 

16 


MAJOR  CHARLES  BUSH  HEARN  (HEARN'S  FATHER). 


EARLY  YEARS 

at  this  time,  and  remembered  creeping  about  as  a  child 
amongst  their  spurred  feet  under  the  dinner-table. 

It  is  extremely  difficult  to  make  out  how  much  the  little 
fellow  knew,  or  did  not  know,  of  the  various  tragic  circum 
stances  that  darkened  these  years — the  unhappiness  that  at 
last  led  to  the  separation  of  his  father  and  mother ;  and  the 
cloud  that  at  various  periods  overshadowed  his  mother's 
brain. 

In  the  series  of  letters  written  to  his  half-sister,  Mrs. 
Atkinson,  which,  unfortunately,  we  are  not  permitted  to 
give  in  their  entirety,  strange  lights  are  cast  on  the  course 
of  events.  "I  only  once,"  he  says,  ''remember  seeing  my 
brother  as  a  child.  Father  had  brought  me  some  tin  sol 
diers,  and  cannon  to  fire  peas.  While  I  was  arranging 
them  in  order  for  battle,  and  preparing  to  crush  them  with 
artillery,  a  little  boy  with  big  eyes  was  introduced  to  me 
as  my  brother.  Concerning  the  fact  of  brotherhood,  I  was 
totally  indifferent — especially  for  the  reason  that  he  seized 
some  of  my  soldiers,  and  ran  away  with  them  immediately. 
I  followed  him;  I  wrenched  the  soldiers  from  him;  I  beat 
him  and  threw  him  downstairs ;  it  was  quite  easy,  because 
he  was  four  years  my  junior.  What  afterwards  happened 
I  do  not  know.  I  have  a  confused  idea  that  I  was  scolded 
and  punished.  But  I  never  saw  my  brother  again." 

The  following  reminiscence  requires  little  comment: — 

"I  was  walking  in  Dublin  with  my  father.  He  never 
laughed,  so  I  was  afraid  of  him.  He  bought  me  cakes. 
It  was  a  day  of  sun,  with  rain  clouds  above  the  roofs,  but 
no  rain.  I  was  in  petticoats.  AYe  walked  a  long  way. 
Father  stopped  at  a  flight  of  stone  steps  before  a  tall  house, 
and  knocked  the  knocker,  I  think.  Inside,  at  the  foot  of 
a  staircase  a  lady  came  to  meet  us.  She  seemed  to  me  tall 
— but  a  child  cannot  judge  stature  well  except  by  com 
parison.  What  I  distinctly  remember  is  that  she  seemed 
to  me  lovely  beyond  anything  I  had  ever  seen  before.  She 

17 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

stooped  down  and  kissed  me :  I  think  I  can  feel  the  touch 
of  her  hand  still.  Then  I  found  myself  in  possession  of  a 
toy  gun  and  a  picture  book  she  had  given  me.  On  the  way 
home,  father  bought  me  some  plum  cakes,  and  told  me 
never  to  say  anything  to  l auntie'  about  our  visit.  I  can't 
remember  whether  I  told  or  not.  But  *  auntie'  found  it 
out.  She  was  so  angry  that  I  was  frightened.  She  con 
fiscated  the  gun  and  the  picture  book,  in  which  I  remember 
there  was  a  picture  of  David  killing  Goliath.  Auntie  did 
not  tell  me  why  she  was  angry  for  more  than  ten  years 
after." 

The  tall  lovely  lady  was  Mrs.  Crawford,  destined  later 
to  be  Laf cadio  's  stepmother.  By  her  first  husband  she  had 
two  daughters.  The  Hearn  and  Crawford  children  used 
apparently  to  meet  and  play  together  at  this  time  in 
Dublin. 

Mrs.  Weatherall,  one  of  these  daughters,  tells  me  that  a 
more  uncanny,  odd-looking  little  creature  than  Patricio 
Lafcadio  it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine.  "When  first  she 
saw  him  he  was  about  five  years  of  age.  Long,  lanky  black 
hair  hung  on  either  side  of  his  face,  and  his  promi 
nent,  myopic  eyes  gave  him  a  sort  of  dreamy,  absent  look. 
In  his  arms  he  tightly  clasped  a  doll,  as  if  terrified  that 
someone  might  take  it  from  him. 

"Tell  Mrs.  Weatherall  I  cannot  remember  the  pleasant 
things  she  tells  of — the  one  day's  happy  play  with  a  little 
girl, ' '  he  writes  from  Japan  to  Mrs.  Atkinson.  * '  I  remem 
ber  a  little  girl,  but  it  can't  have  been  the  same.  I  went 
into  the  garden.  The  little  girl  stood  with  one  hand  on 
her  hips,  and  said :  '  I  think  I  am  stronger  than  you.  Can 
you  run?'  I  said  angrily  'Yes.'  'Let  us  run  a  race,'  she 
said.  We  ran.  I  was  badly  beaten.  Then  she  laughed, 
and  I  was  red  with  shame,  for  I  felt  my  face  hot.  'I  am 
certainly  stronger  than  you,'  she  said;  'now  shall  we 
wrestle  ? '  I  resisted  rudely.  But  in  spite  of  my  anger  she 

18 


EARLY  YEARS 

threw  me  down  easily.  'Ah ! '  she  said : — 'now  you  must  do 
what  I  tell  you.'  She  tied  my  hands  behind  me,  and  led 
me  into  the  house  to  a  cage  where  there  was  a  large  parrot. 
My  hair  was  long.  She  made  the  parrot  seize  my  hair. 
When  I  tried  to  get  away  from  the  cage,  the  parrot  pulled 
savagely.  Then  I  cried,  and  the  little  girl  sat  down  on 
the  ground  in  her  silk  dress,  and  rolled  with  laughter. 
Then  she  called  her  mother  to  see.  I  hoped  her  mother 
would  scold  her  and  free  me.  But  the  mother  also  laughed, 
and  went  away  again,  leaving  me  there.  I  never  saw  that 
little  girl  again.  I  think,  though,  that  her  name  was  Jukes. 
She  seemed  to  me  to  feel  like  a  grown-up  person.  I  was 
afraid  of  her,  and  disliked  her  because  she  was  cleverer 
than  me,  and  treated  me  like  a  little  dog.  But  how  I  would 
love  to  see  her  now.  I  suppose  she  is  the  mother  of  men 
to-day — great  huge  men,  perhaps  generals,  certainly 
colonels. 

"At  all  events,  tell  Mrs.  W.  that  I  wish,  ever  so  much, 
she  were  a  little  girl  again  and  I  a  little  boy,  and  that  we 
could  play  together  like  then,  in  the  day  I  can't  remember. 
Ask  her  if  the  sun  was  not  then  much  larger,  and  the  sky 
much  bluer,  and  the  moon  more  wonderful  than  now.  I 
rather  think  I  should  like  to  see  her. ' ' 

Poor  Lafcadio!  "What  pathos  there  is  in  the  question 
"Ask  her  if  the  sun  was  not  then  much  larger,  and  the 
sky  much  bluer,  and  the  moon  more  wonderful  than  now." 
Those  were  the  days  before  the  loss  of  his  eye  at  Ushaw 
College  had  maimed  his  visual  powers,  and  transformed 
his  life. 

In  his  delightful  impressionist  description  of  a  jour 
ney  made  from  Nagasaki  to  Kumamoto,  along  the  shores 
of  the  Inland  Sea,  the  same  idea  is  repeated.  As  mile 
after  mile  he  rolled  along  the  shore  in  his  kuruma,  the 
elusive  fragrance  of  a  most  dear  memory  returned  to 
him,  of  a  magical  time  and  place  "in  which  the  sun  and 

19 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  moon  were  larger,  and  the  sky  much  more  blue  and 
nearer  to  the  world/'  and  he  recalls  the  love  that  he  had 
cherished  for  one  whom  he  does  not  name,  but  who  I  know 
to  be  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Elwood,  who  "  softly  ruled  his  world 
and  thought  only  of  ways  to  make  him  happy. ' '  Mrs.  El- 
wood  was  an  elder  sister  of  Charles  Hearn,  married  to 
Frank  Elwood,  owner  of  a  beautiful  place,  situated  on 
Lough  Corrib  in  the  County  Mayo.  She  was  a  most  de 
lightful  and  clever  person,  beloved  by  her  children  and 
all  her  family  connections,  especially  by  her  aunt,  Mrs. 
Brenane,  who  was  often  in  the  habit  of  stopping  at  the 
Elwoods'  place  with  her  adopted  son.  We  can  imagine 
her  telling  the  little  fellow  stories,  in  the  "  great  hush  of 
the  light  before  moonrise,"  and  then  crooning  a  weird  little 
song  to  put  him  to  sleep.  "At  last  there  came  a  parting 
day,  and  she  wept  and  told  me  of  a  charm  she  had  given 
which  I  must  never,  never  lose,  because  it  would  keep  me 
young  and  give  me  power  to  return.  But  I  never  returned. 
And  the  years  went;  and  one  day  I  knew  that  I  had  lost 
the  charm,  and  had  become  ridiculously  old. ' '  x 

"The  last  time  I  saw  father  was  at  Tramore,"  he  tells 
his  half-sister,  when  retailing  further  his  childish  mem 
ories  ;  *  *  he  had  asked  leave  to  see  me.  We  took  a  walk  by 
the  sea.  It  was  a  very  hot  day;  and  father  had  become 
bald  then ;  and  when  he  took  off  his  hat  I  saw  that  the  top 
of  his  head  was  all  covered  with  little  drops  of  water.  He 
said:  'She  is  very  angry;  she  will  never  forgive  me.' 
'She'  was  Auntie.  I  never  saw  him  again. 

"I  have  distinct  remembrances  of  my  uncle  Richard;  I 
remember  his  big  beard,  and  a  boxwood  top  he  gave  me. 
Auntie  was  prejudiced  against  him  by  some  tale  told  her 
about  his  life  in  Paris." 

The  year  after  his  return  from  the  Crimea,  Charles  and 

i  "Out  of  the  East,"  Gay  &  Hancock. 

20 


EARLY  YEARS 

Rosa  Hearn 's  luckless  union  was  dissolved  by  mutual  con 
sent.  Gossip  says  that  after  her  departure  she  married 
the  lawyer  (a  Jew)  who  had  protected  her  interests  when 
she  severed  her  connexion  with  Ireland;  but  we  have  no 
proof  of  this,  neither  have  we  proof  of  the  statement  made 
by  some  members  of  the  Hearn  family,  that  she  returned 
a  year  or  so  later  to  see  her  children  but  was  prevented 
from  doing  so.  From  what  we  know  of  Rosa  Hearn,  it 
is  far  more  probable  that,  in  the  sunshine  amidst  the  vine 
yards  and  orange-groves  of  her  own  southern  land,  the 
gloom  and  misery  of  those  five  years  in  Dublin  was  sponged 
completely  from  the  tablets  of  her  memory. 

After  the  closing  of  the  chapter  of  his  first  unhappy 
marriage,  Charles  Hearn  married  the  lady  he  had  been 
attached  to  before  he  met  Rosa  Tessima.  At  the  Registra 
tion  Office  in  Stephen's  Green,  Dublin,  the  record  may  be 
seen  entered  of  the  marriage,  in  1857,  of  Surgeon-Major 
Charles  Bush  Hearn,  to  Alicia  (Posy),  widow  of  George 
John  Crawford. 

Immediately  afterwards,  accompanied  by  his  wife, 
Charles  Hearn  proceeded  with  his  regiment  to  India.  His 
eldest  boy  he  entrusted  to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Justin  Brenane, 
who  promised  to  leave  him  her  money,  on  condition  that 
she  was  allowed  to  bring  him  up  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
faith. 

Neither  Mrs.  Brenane  nor  Charles  Hearn  reckoned  with 
the  spirit  that  was  housed  in  the  boy's  frail  body,  nor  the 
fiery  independence  of  mind  that  made  him  cast  off  all 
ecclesiastical  rule  and  declare  himself,  as  a  boy  at  college, 
a  Pantheist  and  Free  Thinker,  thus  playing  into  the  hands 
of  those  who  for  purposes  of  their  own  sought  to  alienate 
him  from  his  grand-aunt. 

Daniel  James,  the  second  boy,  was  ultimately  sent  to  his 
Uncle  Richard  in  Paris. 

Of  his  father,  Lafcadio  retained  but  a  faint  memory. 

21 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

In  an  article  written  upon  Lafcadio  after  his  death,  Mr. 
Tunison,  his  Cincinnati  friend,  says  he  used  often  to  refer 
to  a  " blonde  lady,"  who  had  wrecked  his  childhood,  and 
been  the  means  of  separating  him  from  his  mother.  His 
father  used  to  write  to  him  from  India,  he  tells  Mrs.  At 
kinson,  "printing  every  letter  with  the  pen,  so  that  I  could 
read  it.  I  remember  he  told  me  something  about  a  tiger 
getting  into  his  room.  I  never  wrote  to  him,  I  think 
Auntie  used  to  say  something  like  this:  'I  do  not  forbid 
you  to  write  to  your  father,  child,'  but  she  did  not  look 
as  though  she  wished  me  to,  and  I  was  lazy. ' ' 

Lafcadio  and  his  father  never  met  again,  for  on  Novem 
ber  21st,  1866,  on  his  return  journey  to  England,  Surgeon- 
Major  Charles  Bush  Hearn  died  of  Indian  fever,  on  board 
the  English  steamship  Mula  at  Suez,  thus  ending  a  dis 
tinguished  career,  and  a  military  service  of  twenty-four 
years. 

With  the  separation  of  his  parents,  Lafcadio 's  childhood 
came  to  an  end.  We  now  have  to  follow  the  development 
of  this  strange,  undisciplined  nature,  through  boyhood  into 
manhood,  and  ultimately  to  fame,  remembering  always  that 
henceforth  he  was  unprotected  by  a  father's  advice  or  care, 
unsoothed  by  a  mother's  tenderness — that  tenderness  gen 
erally  most  freely  bestowed  on  those  least  likely  to  conquer 
in  the  arena  of  life. 


22 


CHAPTER  II 
BOYHOOD 

"You  speak  about  that  feeling  of  fulness  of  the  heart  with  which 
we  look  at  a  thing — half-angered  by  inability  to  analyse  within  our 
selves  the  delight  of  the  vision.  I  think  the  feeling  is  unanalysable, 
simply  because,  as  Kipling  says,  'the  doors  have  been  shut  behind  us.' 
The  pleasure  you  felt  in  looking  at  that  tree,  was  it  only  your  pleas 
ure,  no, — many  who  would  have  loved  you,  were  looking  through 
you  and  remembering  happier  things.  The  different  ways  in  which 
different  places  and  things  thus  make  appeal  would  be  partly  ex 
plained; — the  supreme  charm  referring  to  reminiscences  reaching 
through  the  longest  chain  of  life,  and  the  highest.  But  no  pleasure 
of  this  sort  can  have  so  ghostly  a  sweetness  as  that  which  belongs 
to  the  charm  of  an  ancestral  home.  Then  how  much  dead  love  lives 
again,  how  many  ecstasies  of  the  childhoods  of  a  hundred  years 
must  revive!" 

MOST  of  Lafcadio's  life  while  with  Mrs.  Brenane  seems 
to  have  been  passed  in  Dublin,  at  her  house,  73,  Upper 
Leeson  Street;  at  Tramore,  a  seaside  place  on  the  coast  of 
Waterford  in  Ireland;  at  Linkfield  Place,  Redhill,  Surrey, 
a  house  belonging  to  Henry  Molyneux,  a  Roman  Catholic 
friend  of  Mrs.  Brenane 's — destined  to  play  a  considerable 
part  in  the  boy's  life — and  in  visiting  about  among  Mrs. 
Brenane 's  relatives,  whose  name  was  legion. 

Mrs.  Brenane,  when  left  a  widow,  lived  occasionally  in 
a  small  house,  Kiltrea,  situated  on  the  Brenane  property, 
near  Enniscorthy.  We  have  records  of  Charles  Hearn, 
Mrs.  Brenane 's  favourite  nephew,  and  his  sister,  Miss 
Hearn,  visiting  her  there,  but  can  nowhere  hear  of  Lafcadio 
stopping  in  Wexford.  In  1866,  the  old  lady  lost  her 

23 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

money,  and  Kiltrea  was  let  to  a  Mr.  Cookman,  whose  son 
lives  there  now. 

Mrs.  Wetmore,  in  her  sketch  of  Hearn's  life,  states  that 
he  "  seems  to  have  been  removed  about  his  seventh  year 
to  Wales,  and  from  thenceforward  only  to  have  visited 
Ireland  occasionally/'  This  erroneous  idea — common  to 
most  of  Hearn's  biographers — has  originated  from  Hearn 
himself.  He  later  makes  allusions  to  journeyings  in  Eng 
land  and  Wales,  but  never  mentions  Ireland.  This  is  typ 
ical  of  his  sensitive,  capricious  genius.  Ireland  was  con 
nected  with  unpleasant  memories;  he  therefore  preferred 
to  transplant  his  imaginings  to  a  more  congenial  at 
mosphere.  Besides  which,  in  his  later  years,  he  was  fasci 
nated  by  the  descriptions  of  Welsh  scenery  given  in 
Borrow 's  "Wild  Wales,"  and  De  Quincey's  "Wanderings 
in  Wales." 

Interpolated  between  a  story  of  grim  Japanese  goblinry, 
and  a  delightful  dream  of  the  fairyland  of  Horai,  in 
"Kwaidan,"1  one  of  Hearn's  last  books,  there  is  a  sketch 
called  "Hi-Mawari"  (Sunflower),  the  scene  of  which  is 
undoubtedly  laid  in  Ireland,  at  the  Elwoods'  place;  and 
"the  dearest  and  fairest  being  in  his  little  world,"  alluded 
to  here,  and  in  his  "Dream  of  a  Summer's  Day,"  is  his 
aunt,  Mrs.  Elwood.  Beautiful  as  any  Welsh  hills  are  the 
Connemara  Peaks,  faintly  limned  against  the  forget-me- 
not  Irish  sky.  But  Lafcadio  eliminates  Ireland  from  his 
memory,  and  calls  them  "Welsh  hills." 

The  "Robert"  mentioned  in  the  sketch  was  his  cousin, 
Robert  Elwood,  who  ultimately  entered  the  navy,  and  was 
drowned  off  the  coast  of  China,  when  endeavouring  to 
save  a  comrade,  wrho  had  fallen  overboard.  Hence  the 
allusion  at  the  end  of  the  essay  .  .  .  "all  that  existed 
of  the  real  Robert  must  long  ago  have  suffered  a  sea 

i  The  publishers  of  "Kwaidan"  are  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

24 


BOYHOOD 

change  into  something  rich  and  strange. "  "Greater  love 
hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  a 
friend." 

The  old  harper,  "the  swarthy,  unkempt  vagabond,  with 
bold  black  eyes,  under  scowling  brows/'  was  Dan  Fitz- 
patrick  of  Cong,  a  well-known  character  in  the  County 
Mayo.  One  of  his  stock  songs  was  "Believe  me,  if  all  those 
endearing  young  charms/'  A  daughter  of  his,  who  accom 
panied  her  father  on  his  tramps  and  collected  the  money 
contributed  by  the  audience,  was,  a  few  years  ago,  still 
living  in  the  village  of  Cong. 

Forty-six  years  later,  noticing  a  sunflower  near  the  Jap 
anese  village  of  Takata,  memories  of  the  Irish  August  day 
came  back  to  him,  the  pungent  resinous  scent  of  the  fir- 
trees,  the  lawn  sloping  down  to  Lough  Corrib,  his  cousin 
Robert  standing  beside  him  while  they  watched  the  harper 
place  his  harp  upon  the  doorstep,  and  troll  forth — 

"Believe  me,  if  all  those  endearing  young  charms, 
Which  I  gaze  on  so  fondly  to-day    .     .     ." 

The  only  person  he  had  ever  heard  sing  these  words  be 
fore  was  she  who  was  enshrined  in  the  inmost  sanctuary 
of  his  childish  heart.  All  Charles  Hearn's  sisters  were 
musical;  but  above  all  Mrs.  Elwood  was  famous  for  her 
singing  of  Moore's  melodies.  The  little  fellow  was  indig 
nant  that  a  coarse  man  should  dare  to  sing  the  same 
words;  but,  with  the  utterance  of  the  syllables  "to-day," 
the  corduroy-clad  harper's  voice  broke  suddenly  into  pa 
thetic  tenderness,  and  the  house,  and  lawn,  and  everything 
surrounding  the  boy,  trembled  and  swam  in  the  tears  that 
rose  to  his  eyes. 

In  a  letter  to  his  half-sister,  written  probably  Novem 
ber,  1891,  he  thus  alludes  to  the  Elwoods:  "I  remember 
a  cousin,  Frank  Elwood,  ensign  in  the  army.  I  disliked 
him,  because  he  used  to  pinch  me  when  I  was  a  child. 

25 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

He  was  a  handsome  fellow,  I  liked  to  see  him  in  his  uni 
form.  I  forget  when  I  saw  my  cousin,  Robert  Elwood, 
last.  I  might  have  been  eight  or  nine  years  old — I  might 
have  been  twelve.  And  that's  all." 

It  was  customary,  in  the  middle  of  last  century,  for  Irish 
people,  who  could  afford  it,  to  cross  St.  George's  Channel 
for  their  summer  holiday. 

Mrs.  Brenane,  his  grand-aunt,  passed  several  summers 
at  Bangor.  These  visits  seemed  to  have  been  some  of  the 
happiest  periods  in  Lafcadio's  life.  He  was  then  the 
adopted  child  of  a  rich  old  lady,  pampered,  spoilt,  and 
made  much  of  by  all  the  members  of  her  circle.  Car 
narvon  Castle  was  a  favourite  resort;  there  Lafcadio  had 
his  first  experience  of  the  artistic  productions  of  the  Far 
East. 

One  season  he  was  sent  with  his  nurse  to  reside  in  the 
cottage  of  a  sea-captain,  whose  usual  "run"  had  been  to 
China  and  Japan.  Piled  up  in  every  corner  of  the  little 
house  were  eastern  grotesqueries,  ancient  gods,  bronze  im 
ages,  china  animals.  We  can  imagine  the  ghostly  influ 
ence  these  weird  curiosities  would  exercise  over  the  sensi 
tive  brain  of  a  lonely  little  boy.  Years  after,  writing  to 
Krehbiel,  he  gives  a  vivid  description  of  a  Chinese  gong 
that  hung  on  an  old-fashioned  stand  in  the  midst  of  the 
heterogeneous  collection.  When  tapped  with  a  leather 
beater,  it  sobbed,  like  waves  upon  a  low  beach  .  .  . 
and  with  each  tap  the  roar  grew  deeper  and  deeper,  till  it 
seemed  like  an  abyss  in  the  Cordillera,  or  a  crashing  of 
Thor's  chariot  wheels. 

By  his  own  showing,  Lafcadio  must  have  been  a  most 
difficult  boy  to  manage.  He  tells  his  half-sister,  should 
any  thought  come  to  her  that  it  would  have  been  better 
that  they  could  have  grown  up  together,  she  ought  to  dis 
miss  it  at  once  as  mere  vexation  of  spirit.  "We  were  too 
much  alike  as  little  ones  to  have  loved  each  other  properly; 

26 


BOYHOOD 

and  I  was,  moreover,  what  you  were  not,  wilful  beyond  ; 
all  reason,  and  an  incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  contrariness. 
We  should  have  had  the  same  feelings  in  other  respects; 
but  they  would  have  made  us  fall  out,  except  when  we 
would  have  united  against  a  common  oppressor.  Character 
is  finally  shaped  only  by  struggle,  I  fancy;  and  assuredly 
one  can  only  learn  the  worth  of  love  and  goodness  by  a 
large  experience  of  their  opposites.  I  think  I  have  been 
tolerably  well  ripened  by  the  frosts  of  life,  and  that  I  should 
be  a  good  brother  now.  I  should  not  have  been  so  as  a 
child;  I  was  a  perfect  imp." 

Hearn's  widow,  Mrs.  Koizumi,  told  us  that  often  when 
watching  his  children  at  play  he  would  amuse  them  with 
anecdotes  of  what  he  himself  was  as  a  child.  Apparently, 
from  his  earliest  days,  he  was  given  to  taking  violent  likes 
and  dislikes,  always  full  of  whims  and  wild  imaginings, 
up  to  any  kind  of  prank,  with  a  genius  for  mischief — 
traps  arranged  with  ink-bottles  above  doors  so  that  when 
the  door  was  opened,  the  ink-bottle  would  fall.  One  lady, 
apparently,  was  the  object  he  selected  for  playing  off 
most  of  his  practical  jokes.  "  She  was  a  hypocrite  and  I 
could  not  bear  her.  When  she  tapped  my  head  gently, 
and  said  'Oh,  you  dear  little  fellow,'  I  used  to  call  at  her, 
'Osekimono'  (flatterer)  and  run  away  and  hide  myself. " 

He  hated  meat,  but  his  grand-aunt  would  insist  on  his 
eating  it;  when  she  wasn't  looking  he  would  hide  it  away 
in  the  cupboard,  where,  days  after,  she  would  discover  it 
half-rotten. 

Surely  it  was  the  irony  of  fate  that  gave  such  a  creature 
of  fire  and  touchwood,  with  quivering  nerves  and  abnormal 
imagination,  into  the  charge  of  an  injudicious,  narrow- 
minded,  bigoted  person,  such  as  Sally  Brenane;  and  yet 
she  was  very  fond  of  him,  and  he  of  her.  At  Tramore,  an 
old  family  servant  said  that  he  used  to  "follow  her  about 
like  a  lap-dog. ' ' 

27 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

But  it  was  Mrs.  Brenane  's  maid,  his  nurse  as  well,  Kate 
Mythen,  who  was  one  of  the  principal  influences  in  his 
life,  in  these  days  at  Tramore,  and  Redhill,  before  he  went 
to  Ushaw.  To  Kate's  care  he  was,  to  a  great  extent,  com 
mitted.  As  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  used  to  make  Allison 
Cunningham,  or  "Cummie,"  the  confidante  of  his  childish 
woes,  and  joys,  and  imaginings,  so  Lafcadio  Hearn  com 
municated  to  Kate  Mythen  all  that  was  in  his  strange 
little  heart  and  imaginative  brain.  But  "Cummie"  was 
staunch,  with  the  old  Scotch  Covenanter  staunchness.  The 
last  book  Stevenson  wrote  was  sent  to  her  with  "the  love 
of  her  boy."  After  he  left  Ushaw,  Lafcadio  Hearn  never 
saw  Kate  Mythen  and  held  no  communion  with  her  of 
any  kind.  She  must  have  known  of  the  banishment  of 
the  boy,  of  the  alienation  of  his  adopted  mother 's  affections, 
of  the  transference  of  his  inheritance  to  others,  yet  she 
died  in  Mrs.  Molyneux's  house  at  Tramore  in  1903,  only 
a  year  before  her  nursling,  whose  name  then  had  become 
so  famous;  to  her  it  was  tainted  and  defiled,  for  had  he 
not  cast  off  the  rule  of  Holy  Mother  Church,  and  declared 
himself  a  Buddhist  and  a  pagan?  Such  is  the  power  of 
priest  and  religion  over  the  Celtic  mind. 

Hearn 's  references  to  the  nameless  terror  of  dreams,  to 
which  he  was  a  prey  in  his  childhood,  especially  as  set 
forth  in  a  sketch  entitled  "Nightmare  Touch,"  reveals  the 
sufferings  of  a  creature  highly  strung  and  sensitive  to  the 
point  almost  of  lunacy. 

He  was  condemned,  when  about  five  years  of  age,  it  seems, 
to  sleep  by  himself  in  a  lonely  room.  His  foolish  old 
grand-aunt,  who  had  never  had  children  of  her  own  and 
could  not  therefore  enter  into  his  sufferings,  ordained 
that  no  light  should  be  left  in  his  room  at  night.  If  he 
cried  with  terror  he  was  whipped.  But  in  spite  of  the 
whippings,  he  could  not  forbear  to  talk  about  what  he 
heard  on  creaking  stairways  and  saw  behind  the  folds  of 

28 


BOYHOOD 

curtains.  Though  harshly  treated  at  school,  he  was  hap 
pier  there  than  at  home,  because  he  was  not  condemned  to 
sleep  alone,  and  the  greater  part  of  his  day  was  spent  with 
" living  human  beings"  and  not  "ghosts." 

The  most  interesting  portion  of  Dr.  Gould 's  book,  ' '  Con 
cerning  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  is  that  which  treats  of  Hearn 's 
eyesight.  As  an  oculist,  he  maintains  that  Hearn  must 
have  suffered  from  congenital  eyestrain,  brought  on  by 
pronounced  myopia  from  his  earliest  childhood,  long  before 
the  accident  at  Ushaw. 

The  description  that  Hearn  gives  somewhere  of  the 
tl  sombre  yellowish  glow,  suffusing  the  dark,  making  objects 
dimly  visible,  while  the  ceiling  remained  pitch  black,  as  if 
the  air  were  changing  colour  from  beneath,"  is  a  phenom 
enon  familiar  to  all  who  have  suffered  from  eyestrain. 

After  Hearn 's  death,  in  a  drawer  of  his  library  at  Tokyo 
half-a-dozen  envelopes  were  found,  each  containing  a  sketch 
neatly  written  in  his  small  legible  handwriting.  He  appar 
ently  had  intended  to  construct  a  book  of  childish  remin 
iscences  after  the  manner  of  Pierre  Loti's  "Livre  de  la 
Pitie  et  a  de  la  Mort."  These  sketches  throw  many  side 
lights  on  his  early  years,  but,  except  the  one  named 
"Idolatry"  they  are  not  up  to  the  level  of  his  usual  work. 
The  material  is  too  scanty,  events  seen  through  the  haze  of 
memory  are  thrown  out  of  focus,  unimportant  incidents 
made  too  important. 

"Only  with  much  effort,"  he  writes  to  Mrs.  Atkinson, 
"can  I  recall  scattered  memories  of  my  boyhood.  It  seems 
as  if  a  much  more  artificial  self  were  constantly  trying  to 
speak  instead  of  the  self  that  is  in  me — thus  producing 
obvious  incongruities." 

"My  Guardian  Angel"  relates  the  sufferings  inflicted  on 
his  childish  mind  by  a  certain  cousin  Jane — apparently  one 
of  the  Molyneux  clan,  a  convert  to  the  Roman  Catholic 
church,  who  made  the  little  fellow  intensely  unhappy  by 

29 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

telling  him  that  he  would  burn  for  ever  in  Hell  fire  if  he 
did  not  believe  in  God. 

When  she  left  in  the  spring  he  hoped  she  might  die. 
He  was  haunted  by  fears  of  her  vengeance  during  her  ab 
sence,  and  when  she  returned  later,  dying  of  consumption, 
he  could  not  bear  to  be  near  to  her.  She  left  him  a  be 
quest  of  books,  of  which  he  hardly  appreciated  the  value 
then.  It  included  a  full  set  of  the  "Waverley  Novels," 
the  works  of  Miss  Edgworth,  Martin's  "  Mil  ton/'  Pope's 
1  'Iliad  and  Odyssey,"  some  quaint  translations  of  the 
" Arabian  Nights,"  and  Locke's  essay  on  "The  Human 
Understanding."  Curiously  enough,  there  was  not  a  single 
theological  book  in  the  collection.  His  cousin  Jane's  lit 
erary  tastes  were  apparently  uninfluenced  by  her  religious 
views. 

In  1859,  Henry  Molyneux  was  living  at  Linkfield  Lodge, 
Linkfield  Lane,  Redhill.  The  Redhill  of  to-day,  with  its 
acres  of  bricks  and  mortar,  its  smart  shops,  its  imposing 
Town  Hall,  and  Protestant  and  Roman  Catholic  churches, 
is  a  very  different  place  from  the  straggling  village  that  it 
was  in  those  days.  The  few  gentlemen's  houses  were  oc 
cupied  by  business  men,  the  London,  Brighton  and  South 
Coast  Railway  being  the  first  in  England  to  run  fast  morn 
ing  and  evening  trains  for  the  convenience  of  those  who 
wanted  to  come  and  go  daily  to  London. 

Mrs.  Brenane  seems  to  have  been  in  the  habit  of  going 
over  periodically  to  Redhill  from  Ireland  to  stop  with 
Molyneux  and  his  wife.  She  had,  at  various  times,  in 
vested  most  of  her  fortune  left  to  her  by  her  husband  in 
Molyneux 's  business,  a  depot  for  oriental  goods  in  Watling 
Street. 

When  Henry  Molyneux  became  bankrupt — we  see  his 
name  assigned  by  the  Court  in  the  London  List  of  Bank 
rupts  for  1866 — the  house  at  Redhill  was  given  up,  and  he 
and  his  wife,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Brenane,  settled  perma- 

30 


BOYHOOD 

nently  at  Tramore,  and  there,  apparently,  when  he  was 
allowed  to  leave  college,  Lafcadio  spent  his  vacations.  His 
grand-aunt  by  that  time  had  become  a  permanent  inmate 
of  the  Molyneux  establishment. 

Before  I  had  seen  the  Atkinson  letters,  I  wondered  how 
much  Hearn  knew  of  the  influences  brought  to  bear  on 
his  life  at  this  time.  In  the  second  Atkinson  letter  he 
openly  reveals  his  entire  knowledge  of  the  incidents  that 
appear  to  have  deprived  him  of  his  inheritance. 

'Jesuits,  he  thought,  managed  the  Molyneux  introduc 
tion — but  was  not  sure.  "It  was  brought  about  by  the 
Molyneuxs  claiming  to  be  relatives  of  Aunty's  dead  hus 
band."  (Here,  Lafcadio  was  mistaken,  for  Molyneux,  on 
the  contrary,  declared  himself  to  be  connected  with  the 
Hearns  and  called  himself  Henry  Hearn  Molyneux.) 
" Aunty  adored  that  husband,"  he  goes  on,  "she  was  all 
her  life  troubled  about  one  thing.  When  he  was  dying 
he  had  said  to  her :  { Sally,  you  know  what  to  do  with  the 
property?'  She  tried  to  question  him  more,  but  he  was 
already  beyond  the  reach  of  questions.  Now  the  worry 
of  her  whole  life  was  to  know  just  what  those  words  meant. 
The  priests  persuaded  her  they  meant  that  she  was  to 
take  care  the  property  remained  in  Catholic  hands,  in  the 
hands  of  the  relatives  of  her  husband.  She  hesitated  a 
long  time;  was  suspicious.  Then  the  Molyneux  people 
fascinated  her.  Henry  had  been  brought  up  by  the  Jesuits. 
He  had  been  educated  for  commerce,  spoke  four  or  five 
languages  fluently.  He  soon  became  omnipotent  in  the 
house.  Aunt  told  me  she  was  going  to  help  him  for  her  hus 
band  's  sake.  The  help  was  soon  given  in  a  very  sub 
stantial  way,  by  settling  five  hundred  a  year  on  the  young 
lady  he  was  engaged  to  marry.  .  .  .  Mr.  Henry  next 
succeeded  in  having  himself  declared  heir  in  Aunty 's  will ; 
I  to  be  provided  for  by  an  annuity  of  (I  think,  but  am  not 
sure)  £500.  'Henry/  who  had  'made  himself  the  darling/ 

31 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

was  not  satisfied.  He  desired  to  get  the  property  into  his 
hands  during  Aunty's  life.  This  he  was  able  to  do  to  his 
own,  as  well  as  Aunty 's,  ruin.  He  failed  in  London.  The 
estate  was  put  into  the  hands  of  receivers.  I  was  with 
drawn  from  college,  and  afterwards  sent  to  America,  to 
some  of  Henry's  friends.  I  had  some  help  from  them  in 
the  shape  of  five  dollars  per  week  for  a  few  months.  Then 
I  was  told  to  go  to  the  devil  and  take  care  of  myself.  I 
did  both.  Aunty  died  soon  after.  Henry  Molyneux 
wrote  me  a  letter,  saying  that  there  were  many  things  to 
be  sent  me,  etc.,  he  also  said  he  had  been  made  sole  Exec 
utor,  but  told  me  nothing  about  the  Will.  (If  you  ever 
have  a  chance  to  find  out  about  it,  please  do.)  I  wrote 
him  a  letter  which  probably  troubled  his  digestion,  as  he 
never  was  heard  of  more  by  me.  .  .  .  There  was  a 
daughter,  however,  quite  attractive.  'My  first  love' — at 
fourteen.  I  used  to  write  her  foolish  letters,  and  wore  a 
lock  of  her  hair  for  a  year  or  two.  .  .  .:,  -. 

''Well, — there  is  enough  reminiscences  for  once.  If  you 
wish  for  any  more,  little  sister  mine,  I'll  chatter  another 
time.  To-day,  under  pressure  of  work,  I  have  to  say  good 
bye. 

"Lovingly  ever, 

"LAFCADIO  HEARN." 

In  another  letter,  he  says,  "I  know  Aunt  Brenane  made 
a  Will;  for  she  told  me  so  in  Dublin,  when  living  at  73, 
Upper  Leeson  Street;  and  I  used  to  go  to  an  aged  Lawyer 
with  her,  but  I  can't  remember  his  name.  I  don't  think 
the  matter  is  very  important  after  all;  but  it  might,  if 
accurately  known,  give  revelation  about  some  other  mat 
ters." 


32 


CHAPTER  III 
TRAMORE 

"If  you,  0  reader,  chance  to  be  a  child  of  the  sea ;  if  in  early  child 
hood,  you  listened  each  morning  and  evening  to  that  most  ancient 
and  mystic  hymn-chant  of  the  waves,  ...  if  you  have  ever 
watched  wonderingly,  the  far  sails  of  the  fishing  vessels  turn  rosy  in 
the  blush  of  sunset,  or  once  breathed  as  your  native  air  the  divine 
breath  of  the  ocean,  and  learned  the  swimmer's  art  from  the  hoary 
breakers.  .  .  .  When  the  long,  burning  summer  comes,  and  the 
city  roars  dustily  around  you,  and  your  ears  are  filled  with  the 
droning  hum  of  machinery,  and  your  heart  full  of  the  bitterness  of 
the  struggle  for  life,  does  not  there  visit  you  at  long  intervals  in  the 
dingy  office  or  the  crowded  street  some  memory  of  white  breakers 
and  vast  stretches  of  wrinkled  sand  and  far-fluttering  breezes  that 
seem  to  whisper,  'Come!'? 

"So  that  when  the  silent  night  descends,  you  find  yourself  revis 
iting  in  dreams  those  ocean  shores  thousands  of  miles  away.  The 
wrinkled  sand,  ever  shifting  yet  ever  the  same,  has  the  same  old 
familiar  patches  of  vari-coloured  weeds  and  shining  rocks  along  its 
level  expanse:  and  the  thunder-chant  of  the  sea  which  echoes  round 
the  world,  eternal  yet  ever  new,  is  rolling  up  to  heaven.  The  glad 
waves  leap  up  to  embrace  you;  the  free  winds  shout  welcome  in  your 
ears;  white  sails  are  shining  in  the  west;  white  sea-birds  are  flying 
over  the  gleaming  swells.  And  from  the  infinite  expanse  of  eternal 
sky  and  everlasting  sea,  there  comes  to  you,  with  the  heavenly  ocean- 
breeze,  a  thrilling  sense  of  unbounded  freedom,  a  delicious  feeling  as 
of  life  renewed,  and  ecstasy  as  of  life  restored.  And  so  you  start 
into  wakefulness  with  the  thunder  of  the  sea-dream  in  your  ears  and 
tears  of  regret  in  your  eyes,  to  find  about  you  only  heat  and  dust  and 
toil;  the  awakening  rumble  of  traffic,  and  'the  city  sickening  on  its 
own  thick  breath.' " 

TRAMORE  is  situated  six  miles  south  of  the  city  of  Water- 
ford,  at  the  end  of  a  bay  three  miles  wide.  The  facilities 

33 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

for  sea-bathing  and  the  picturesqueness  of  the  surround 
ing  scenery  have  made  it  a  favourite  resort  for  the  inhabi 
tants  of  Waterford.  On  summer  mornings  when  a  light 
wind  ripples  the  water,  or  on  calm  dewy  nights  when  the 
stars  rule  supreme  in  a  vault  of  purple  ether,  or  on  stormy 
days  when  the  waves  come  rolling  in,  driven  by  the  back 
wash  of  an  Atlantic  storm,  to  break  with  thunderous 
clamour  on  the  long  stretch  of  beach,  Tramore  Bay  pre 
sents  scenes  striking  and  grand  enough  to  stamp  them 
selves  for  ever  on  a  mind  such  as  Lafcadio  Hearn's. 

There  are  periods,  only  to  be  measured  by  days,  hours, 
seconds,  when  impressions  are  garnered  for  a  lifetime. 
Amidst  work  that  is  stereotyped,  artificial,  the  recollection, 
stirring  in  the  artist's  brain — perhaps  after  the  lapse  of 
years — of  a  day  spent  by  the  sea  listening  to  the  murmur 
of  the  waves,  or  sometimes  even  of  only  a  ray  of  sunlight 
falling  through  a  network  of  leaves  on  a  pathway,  or  the 
scent  of  flowers  under  a  garden  wall,  will  infuse  a  fra 
grance,  a  freshness,  something  elemental  and  simple,  into  a 
few  lines  of  prose  or  verse,  raising  them  at  once  out  of 
dull  common-place  into  the  region  of  pathos,  sometimes  of 
inspiration. 

Not  seldom  was  Hearn  inspired  when  he  took  pen  in 
hand,  but  never  so  bewitchingly  as  when  he  described  the 
sea,  or  set  down,  sometimes  unconsciously,  memories  of 
these  childish  days. 

At  the  fishing  village  of  Yaidzu  on  the  coast  of  Suruga, 
twenty  years  later,  while  watching  the  wild  sea  roaring 
over  its  beach  of  sand,  there  came  to  him  the  sensation 
of  seeing  something  unreal,  looking  at  something  that  had 
no  more  tangible  existence  than  a  memory !  Whether  sug 
gested  by  the  first  white  vision  of  the  surf  over  the  bamboo 
hedge — or  by  those  old  green  tide-lines  in  the  desolation 
of  the  black  beach — or  by  some  tone  of  the  speaking  sea, 
or  by  something  indefinable  in  the  touch  of  the  wind, — or 

34 


TRAMORE 

by  all  these — he  could  not  say;  but  slowly  there  became 
defined  within  him  the  thought  of  having  beheld  just  such 
a  coast  very  long  ago,  he  could  not  tell  where,  in  those 
childish  years  of  which  the  recollections  were  hardly  dis 
tinguishable  from  dreams.  .  .  . 

Then  he  found  himself  thinking  of  the  vague  terror  with 
which  he  had  listened  years  before,  as  a  child,  to  the  voice 
of  the  sea;  and  he  remembered  that  on  different  coasts, 
in  different  parts  of  the  world,  the  sound  of  surf  had 
always  revived  the  feeling.  Certainly  this  emotion  was 
older  than  he  was  himself  by  thousands  and  thousands 
of  centuries,  the  inherited  sum  of  numberless  terrors  an 
cestral. 

The  quotation  set  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  taken 
from  a  fragment  entitled  ' '  Gulf  Winds, ' ' 1  shows  his  in 
spiration  at  its  best.  Freeing  himself  from  the  trammels 
of  journalistic  work  on  the  Commercial,  while  cooped  up 
in  the  streets  of  New  Orleans,  he  recalls  the  delight  of  the 
sea  in  connection  with  the  Levantine  sailors  in  the  market 
place,  and  breaks  into  a  piece  of  poetic  prose  which  I  main 
tain  has  not  been  surpassed  by  any  English  prose  writer 
during  the  course  of  last  century. 

"Chita,"  Hearn's  first  work  of  fiction,  is  in  no  way  an 
artistic  production ;  it  lacks  construction  and  the  delicate 
touches  that  constitute  the  skilful  delineation  of  character ; 
but  every  now  and  then  memories  of  his  childhood  fall 
across  its  pages,  illumining  them  as  with  sudden  light. 
Chita,  at  the  Viosca  Cheniere,  conquering  her  terror  of 
the  sea,  and  learning  to  swim,  watching  the  quivering  pink- 
ness  of  waters  curled  by  the  breath  of  the  morning  under 
the  deepening  of  the  dawn — like  a  far-fluttering  and  scatter 
ing  of  rose  leaves;  Chita  learning  the  secrets  of  the  air, 

i  "Gulf  Winds"  is  in  print,  but  it  is  not  known  when  and  where 
it  was  published.  Dr.  Gould  quotes  it  in  his  book,  "Concerning 
Lafcadio  Hearn,"  published  by  Messrs.  Fisher  Unwin. 

35 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

many  of  those  signs  of  heaven,  which  the  dwellers  in  cities 
cannot  comprehend,  the  scudding  of  clouds,  darkening  of 
the  sea-line,  and  the  shriek  of  gulls  flashing  to  land  in  level 
flight,  foretelling  wild  weather,  are  but  reminiscences  of 
his  own  childish  existence  at  Tramore. 

For  him,  as  for  Chita,  there  was  no  factitious  life  those 
days,  no  obligations  to  remain  still  with  every  nimble 
nerve  quivering  in  dumb  revolt ;  no  being  sent  early  to 
bed  for  the  comfort  of  his  elders;  no  cruel  necessity  of 
straining  eyes  for  long  hours  over  grimy  desks  in  gloomy 
school-rooms,  though  birds  might  twitter  and  bright  winds 
flutter  in  the  trees  without. 

When  Lafcadio  returned  to  Tramore  from  Ushaw  for 
his  vacations,  long  days  were  spent  boating  or  swimming. 
One  old  Wexford  boatman  was  his  especial  companion. 
The  boy  would  sit  listening  with  'unabated  interest  for 
hours  to  stories  of  shipwreck  or  legendary  adventures, 
which  every  Irish  fisherman  can  spin  interminably;  leg 
ends  of  Celtic  and  Cromwellian  warfare,  of  which  the  ves 
tiges,  in  ruined  castles  and  watch  towers,  are  to  be  seen  on 
the  cliffs  surrounding  the  bay. 

Kate  Mythen,  his  nurse,  .was  wont  to  .say,  that  the  small 
Patrick,  as  he  was  always  called  in  those  days,  would  re 
count  these  yarns  with  many  additions  and  embellishments 
inspired  by  his  vivid  imagination.  Often  too  vivid,  indeed, 
for  not  infrequent  punishment  had  to  be  administered  for 
his  habit  of  " drawing  the  long  bow." 

Accuracy  is  seldom  united  with  strong  imaginative 
power,  and  certainly  during  the  course  of  his  life,  as  well 
as  in  his  childhood,  Hearn  was  not  distinguished  by  accuracy 
of  statement. 

The  real  companions  of  the  boy's  heart  at  that  time  were 
not  those  surrounding  him — not  his  grand-aunt,  or  Kate 
Mythen,  or  the  Wexford  fishermen.  Ideas,  images,  ro 
mantic  imaginings  caught  from  books,  or  from  wanderings 

36 


TRAMORE 

over  hill  and  dale,  separated  him  from  the  outside  world.  \ 
While  other  children  were  building  castles  of  sand  on  the 
beach,  he  was  building  castles  with  towers  reaching  to\ 
the  sky,  touched  by  the  light  of  dawn  and  deepening  fire  ' 
of  evening;  impregnable  ramparts  over  which  none  could \ 
pass  and  behind  which,  for  the  rest  of  his  days,  his  soul 
entrenched  itself. 

Lying  on  the  sea  strand,  rocked  in  the  old  fisherman's 
boat,  his  ears  filled  with  the  echo  of  voices  whispering 
incomprehensible  things,  he  saw,  and  heard,  and  felt  much 
of  that  which,  though  old  as  the  heavens  and  the  earth, 
ever  remains  eternally  new,  eternally  mystical  and  divine 
— the  delicious  shock  that  follows  upon  youth's  first  vision 
of  beauty  supreme.  The  strange  perception,  or,  as  Hearn 
calls  it,  recognition,  of  that  sudden  power  moving  upon 
the  mystery  of  thought  and  existence,  was  not  to  Hearn 
an  attribute  of  this  life,  but  the  shadowing  of  what  had 
been,  the  phantom  of  rapture  forgotten,  an  inheritance 
from  countless  generations  of  people  that  had  preceded 
him,  a  surging  up  from  the  "  ancestral  sea  of  life  from 
whence  he  came." 

It  was  probably  here  at  Tramore  that  occurred  the  in 
cidents  recorded  in  the  sketch  called  ' '  Idolatry. "  It  is  one 
of  the  half-dozen  referred  to  as  having  been  found  amongst 
his  papers  after  his  death. 

His  grand-aunt  apparently,  though  a  bigoted  Roman 
Catholic  convert,  with  a  want  of  logic  that  was  character 
istic,  had  never  given  him  any  religious  instruction.  His 
boyish  yearning  for  beauty  found  no  spiritual  sustenance 
except  from  an  old  Greek  icon  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  or  ugly, 
stiff  drawings  of  saints  and  patriarchs.  One  memorable 
day,  however,  exploring  in  the  library,  he  found  several 
great  folio  books,  containing  figures  of  gods  and  of  demi 
gods,  athletes  and  heroes,  nereids  and  all  the  charming 
monsters,  half  man,  half  animal,  of  Greek  mythology. 

37 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Figure  after  figure  dazzled  and  bewitched  him,  but  filled 
him  with  fear.  Something  invisible  seemed  thrilling  out 
of  the  pictured  pages ;  he  remembered  stories  of  magic  that 
informed  the  work  of  the  pagan  statuaries;  then  a  convic 
tion,  or  rather  intuition,  came  to  him  that  the  gods  had 
been  belied  because  they  were  beautiful.  The  medieval 
creed  seemed  to  him  at  that  moment  the  very  religion  of 
ugliness  and  hate. 

The  delight  he  felt  in  these  volumes  was  soon  made  a 
source  of  sorrow;  the  boy's  reading  was  subjected  to  severe 
examination.  One  day  the  books  disappeared.  After 
many  weeks  they  were  returned  to  their  former  places,  but 
all  unmercifully  revised.  The  religious  tutelage  under 
which  he  was  placed  had  been  offended  by  the  nakedness 
of  the  gods,  parts  of  many  figures  had  been  erased  with  a 
penknife,  and,  in  some  cases,  drawers  had  been  put  on 
the  gods — large,  baggy  bathing  drawers,  woven  with  cross 
strokes  of  a  quill  pen,  so  designed  as  to  conceal  all  curves 
of  beauty.  .  .  .  The  barbarism,  however,  he  says, 
proved  of  some  educational  value.  It  furnished  him  with 
many  problems  of  restoration;  for  he  tried  persistently 
to  reproduce  in  pencil  drawing  the  obliterated  lines. 
By  this  patient  study  Greek  artistic  ideas  were  made 
familiar.  .  .  . 

After  the  world  of  Hellenic  beauty  had  thus  been  re 
vealed,  all  things  began  to  glow  with  unaccustomed  light. 
.  .  .  In  the  sunshine,  in  the  green  of  the  fields,  in  the 
blue  of  the  sky,  he  found  a  gladness  before  unknown. 
Within  himself  new  thoughts,  new  imaginings,  dim  long 
ings  for  he  knew  not  what,  were  quickening  and  thrilling. 
He  looked  for  beauty  and  found  it  in  attitudes  and  mo 
tions,  in  the  poise  of  plants  and  trees,  in  long  white  clouds, 
in  the  faint  blue  lines  of  the  far-off  hills.  At  moments 
the  simple  pleasures  of  life  would  quicken  to  a  joy  so  large, 
so  deep  that  it  frightened  him.  But  at  other  times  there 

38 


TRAMORE 

would  come  to  him  a  new,  strange  sadness,  a  shadowy  and 
inexplicable  pain. 

A  new  day  had  dawned  for  this  impressionable,  ardent 
young  spirit;  he  had  crossed  the  threshold  between  child 
hood  and  youth;  henceforth  the  " Eternal  Haunter"  abode 
with  him;  never  might  he  even  kiss  the  hem  of  her  gar 
ment,  but  hers  the  shining  presence  that,  however  steep 
and  difficult  the  pathway,  led  him  at  last  into  the  "  great 
and  guarded"  city  of  artistic  appreciation  and  accomplish 
ment. 


39 


CHAPTER  IV 
USHAW 

"Really  there  is  nothing  quite  so  holy  as  a  College  friendship. 
Two  lads,  absolutely  innocent  of  everything  in  the  world  or  in  life, 
living  in  ideals  of  duty  and  dreams  of  future  miracles,  and  telling 
each  other  all  their  troubles,  and  bracing  each  other  up.  I  had  such 
a  friend  once.  We  were  both  about  fifteen  when  separated.  Our 
friendship  began  with  a  fight,  of  which  I  got  the  worst;  then  my 
friend  became  for  me  a  sort  of  ideal  which  still  lives.  I  should  be 
almost  afraid  to  ask  where  he  is  now  (men  grow  away  from  each 
other  so)  :  but  your  letter  brought  his  voice  and  face  back — just  as 
if  his  ghost  had  come  in  to  lay  a  hand  on  my  shoulder." 

ST.  CUTHBERT'S  COLLEGE,  Ushaw,  is  situated  on  a  slope 
of  the  Yorkshire  Hills,  near  Durham.  In  the  estimation 
of  English  Roman  Catholics,  it  stands  next  to  Stonyhurst 
as  an  educational  establishment.  Since  Patrick  Lafcadio 
Hearn's  days  it  has  counted  amongst  its  pupils  Francis 
Thomson,  the  poet,  and  Cardinal  Wiseman,  the  archbishop, 
both  of  whom  ever  retained  an  affectionate  and  respectful 
memory  of  their  Alma  Mater. 

Lafcadio  Hearn  was  sent  there  from  Redhill  in  Surrey, 
arriving  on  September  9th,  1863,  at  the  age  of  thirteen. 
Mrs.  Brenane  is  not  likely  to  have  been  a  determining  in 
fluence  in  sending  him  to  college.  For  all  her  narrow- 
minded  piety,  the  old  lady  was  warm-hearted  and  intensely 
attached  to  Lafcadio,  and  must  have  known  how  unfitted 
he  was  for  collegiate  life  in  consequence  of  constitutional 
delicacy  and  defective  eyesight. 

We  have  seen,  also,  that  she  had  little  to  do  with  his 

40 


USHAW 

religious  education.  In  a  letter  written  from  Japan  to  his 
half-sister,  Mrs.  Atkinson,  Lafcadio  declares  that  he  was 
sent  to  a  school  "kept  by  a  hateful,  venomous-hearted  old 
maid,"  but  his  idea  must  either  have  been  prompted  by 
a  sort  of  crazy  fear  of  the  far-reaching  power  of  the  Jesuits, 
or  by  the  inaccuracy  of  his  memory  with  regard  to  many 
early  impressions. 

That  he  was  sent  to  Ushaw  with  a  view  to  entering  the 
priesthood  is  incorrect.  The  education  at  Ushaw  is  by  no 
means  exclusively  devoted  to  preparing  boys  for  the  priest 
hood.  In  a  letter  to  his  brother,  he  says :  ' 1  You  are  mis 
informed  as  to  Grand-Aunt  educating  your  brother  for  the 
priesthood.  He  had  the  misfortune  to  spend  some  years 
in  Catholic  Colleges,  where  the  educational  system  chiefly 
consists  of  keeping  the  pupils  as  ignorant  as  possible.  I 
was  not  even  a  Catholic. ' ' 

Monsignor  Corbishly,  the  late  ecclesiastical  head  of 
Ushaw  College  and  a  school-fellow  of  Lafcadio 's,  stated 
that  if  there  were  any  ideas  on  the  part  of  Hearn 's  rela 
tives  that  he  should  enter  the  priesthood,  the  authorities  of 
Ushaw  College,  as  soon  as  they  had  become  aware  of  the 
1  'mental  and  moral  tendencies"  of  the  boy,  would  have 
decided  that  he  was  quite  unfit  to  become  a  member  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  priesthood.  This  disposes  of  one  of 
the  many  Hearn  myths. 

That  non-success  should  have  attended  the  endeavours 
of  the  authorities  of  Ushaw  and  that  most  of  his  contem 
poraries,  now  shining  lights  in  the  Church  of  Rome,  should 
refer  to  Lafcadio  Hearn  as  a  "painful  subject"  was  a 
foregone  conclusion.  The  same  fanciful,  vagrant,  original 
spirit  that  had  characterised  his  childhood,  characterised 
him  apparently  in  his  college  career.  Besides  an  emphatic 
antagonism  to  laws  and  conventions,  a  distinguishing  char 
acteristic  of  his  was  a  horror  of  forms  and  ceremonies; 
one  of  the  manifestations  that  fascinated  him  in  Shintoism 

41 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

and  Buddhism  later  was  their  worship  of  nature  and  entire 
absence  of  ceremonial  or  doctrinal  teaching. 

All  the  aims  and  thoughts  of  his  boyish  heart  were  di 
rected  against  prescribed  studies  and  ordinary  grooves  of 
thought.     A  rebellion  against  restraint,  a  something  ex- 
)    plosive  and  incalculable,  places  Hearn  amongst  those  whom 
the  French  term  desequilibres,  one  of  those  ill-poised  and 
\     erratic  spirits,  whose  freaks  and  eccentricities  are  so  nearly 
allied  to  madness. 

Besides  his  rebellion  against  restraint,  his  dislike  to  eccle- 
siasticism  was  artistic  and  aesthetic. 

Before  he  came  to  college  his  mind,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
kindled  and  informed  with  enthusiasm  for  natural  beauty 
and  the  grace  of  the  ancient  Hellenic  idea.  And  from  na 
ture  and  Hellenic  ideas,  Christianity,  as  exemplified  by  the 
Koman  Catholic  church,  has  always  stood  aloof. 

"I  remember,"  he  relates  in  one  of  his  essays,  "when  a 
boy,  lying  on  my  back  in  the  grass,  gazing  into  the  sum 
mer  blue  above  me,  and  wishing  I  could  melt  into  it,  be 
come  a  part  of  it.  For  these  fancies  I  believe  that  a  re 
ligious  tutor  was  innocently  responsible;  he  had  tried  to 
explain  to  me,  because  of  certain  dreamy  questions,  what 
he  termed  'the  folly  and  the  wickedness  of  Pantheism/ 
with  the  result  that  I  immediately  became  a  Pantheist,  at 
the  tender  age  of  fifteen.  And  my  imaginings  presently 
led  me  not  only  to  want  the  sky  for  a  playground,  but  also 
to  become  the  sky!" 

That  there  were  faults  and  misunderstandings  and  mis 
taken  ideas  of  discipline  on  the  part  of  his  preceptors  is 
perhaps  possible.  Those  were  the  days  of  "stripes  innu 
merable,"  and  what  was  a  right-minded  ecclesiastic  to  do 
with  a  boy,  but  thrash  him,  when,  in  the  very  stronghold 
of  Catholicism,  he  declared  himself  a  Pantheist? 

If  Monsignor  Corbishly  with  his  tactful  and  unprej 
udiced  mind  had  been  at  that  time  head  of  Ushaw,  as  lie 

42 


USHAW 

ultimately  became,  instead  of  a  contemporary  of  Hearn's, 
it  is  open  to  conjecture  that  the  life  of  the  little  genius 
might  have  taken  an  entirely  different  course.  Like  his 
prototype,  Flaubert,  there  was  a  fond  d' 'ecclesiastique  in 
Hearn's  nature,  as  was  proved  by  his  later  life.  Had  his 
earnestness,  industry,  and  ascetic  self-denial  been  appealed 
to,  with  his  warm  heart  and  pliable  nature,  might  he  not 
have  been  tamed  and  brought  into  line? 

It  is  the  old  story  where  genius  is  concerned.  Because 
an  exceptional  youth  happens  to  place  himself  in  revolt 
against  the  system  of  a  university,  the  authorities  cannot 
remake  their  laws  to  fit  into  his  eccentricity.  Hearn,  as 
he  himself  confesses,  voluntarily  handicapped  himself  all 
his  life,  and  lost  the  race,  run  with  stronger,  better-condi 
tioned  competitors.  But  that  he  should  have  come  away 
from  Ushaw  College,  as  he  declares,  knowing  as  little  as 
when  he  entered,  is  plainly  one  of  his  customary  exaggera 
tions.  The  Reverend  H.  F.  Berry,  French  master  during 
his  residence  there,  was  certainly  not  competent  to  instil 
a  finished  French  style  into  the  future  translator  of  "Syl- 
vestre  Bonnard."  But  it  is  impossible  that  he  could  have 
left  college  entirely  ignorant  of  English  literature  of  the 
16th,  17th  and  18th  centuries,  remaining,  as  he  did,  at  the 
head  of  his  class  in  English  composition  for  three  years  of 
his  residence  at  Ushaw. 

He  himself  gives  a  valid  explanation  for  the  reasons 
of  his  ignorance  on  many  subjects.  His  memories,  he 
says,  "of  early  Roman  history  were  cloudy,  because  the 
Republic  did  not  interest  him;  but  his  conceptions  of  the 
Augustan  era  remained  extremely  vivid ;  and  great  was  his 
delight  in  those  writers  who  related  how  Hadrian  almost 
realised  that  impossible  dream  of  modern  aesthetics,  the 
*  Resurrection  of  Greek  Art/ 

"Of  modern  Germany  and  Scandinavia  he  knew  noth 
ing;  but  the  Eddas,  and  the  Sagas,  and  the  Chronicles  of 

43 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  Heimskringla,  and  the  age  of  the  Vikings  and  Berserks, 
he  had  at  his  finger  ends,  because  they  were  mighty  and 
awesomely  grand." 

Ornamental  education,  he  declared,  when  writing  to  Mr. 
"Watkin  from  Kobe,  in  1896,  was  a  wicked,  farcical  waste 
of  time.  "It  left  me  incapacitated  to  do  anything;  and 
still  I  feel  the  sorrow  and  the  sin  of  having  dissipated  ten 
years  in  Latin  and  Greek  stuff,  when  a  knowledge  of  some 
one  practical  thing,  and  of  a  modern  language  or  two, 
would  have  been  of  so  much  service.  As  it  is,  I  am  only 
self  taught ;  for  everything  I  learned  at  school  I  have  since 
had  to  unlearn.  You  helped  me  with  some  of  the  unlearn 
ing,  dear  old  Dad!  .  .  ." 

In  answer  to  a  letter  of  inquiry,  Canon  D — — ,  one  of 
those  in  his  class  at  the  time,  writes:  "Poor  Paddy 
Hearn!  I  cannot  tell  you  much  about  him,  but  what 
little  I  can,  I  will  now  give  you.  I  remember  him  as 
a  boy  about  14  or  15  very  well.  I  can  see  his  face  now, 
beaming  with  delight  at  some  of  his  many  mischievous 
plots  with  which  he  disturbed  the  College  and  usually  was 
flogged  for.  He  was  some  two  or  three  classes,  or  more, 
below  my  own,  hence  never  on  familiar  terms.  But  he  was 
always  considered  'wild  as  a  March  hare,'  full  of  esca 
pades,  and  the  terror  of  his  masters,  but  always  most  kind 
and  good-natured,  and  I  fancy  very  popular  with  his 
school-mates.  He  never  did  harm  to  anybody,  but  he 
loved  to  torment  the  authorities.  He  had  one  eye  either 
gone  or  of  glass.  There  was  a  wildish  boy  called  *St. 
Ronite, '  *  who  was  one  of  his  companions  in  mischief.  He 
laughed  at  his  many  whippings,  wrote  poetry  about  them 
and  the  birch,  etc.,  and  was,  in  fact,  quite  irresponsible. ' ' 

Monsignor  Corbishly  (during  the  latter  years  of  his  life 
head  of  Ushaw  College)  gives  the  following  information 
about  Laf  cadio : — 

i 1  give  this  name  as  it  is  written  in  Canon  D        's  letter. 

44 


USHAW 

"He  came  here  from  Redhill,  Surrey,  a  few  months 
after  I  did;  no  one  could  be  in  the  College  without  know 
ing  him.  He  was  always  very  much  in  evidence,  very 
popular  among  his  school-fellows.  He  played  many  pranks 
of  a  very  peculiar  and  imaginative  kind.  He  was  full  of 
fun,  wrote  very  respectable  verses  for  a  boy,  was  an  om 
nivorous  reader,  worshipped  muscle,  had  his  note-book  full 
of  brawny  arms,  etc. 

"As  a  student  he  shone  only  in  English  writing;  he 
was  first  in  his  class  the  first  time  he  composed  in  English, 
and  kept  first,  or  nearly  first,  all  the  time  he  was  here,  and 
there  were  several  in  his  class  who  were  considered  very 
good  English  writers — for  boys.  In  other  subjects,  he  was 
either  quite  middling  or  quite  poor.  I  do  not  suppose  he 
exerted  himself  except  in  English. 

"I  should  say  he  was  very  happy  here  altogether,  had 
any  amount  to  say  and  was  very  original.  He  was  not 
altogether  a  desirable  boy,  from  the  Superior's  point  of 
view,  yet  his  playfulness  of  manner  and  brightness,  dis 
armed  any  feeling  of  anger  for  his  many  escapades.  .  .  . 
He  was  so  very  curious  a  boy,  so  wild  in  the  tumult  of  his 
thoughts,  that  you  felt  he  might  do  anything  in  different 
surroundings. ' ' 

Most  of  the  accounts  given  by  his  school-fellows  at  the 
time  repeat  the  same  as  to  his  wildness  and  his  facility  in 
writing  English.  In  this  subject  he  seems  to  have  excelled 
all  his  school-fellows,  invariably  getting  the  prize  for  Eng 
lish  composition.  Later,  at  Cincinnati,  Lafcadio  told  his 
friend  Mr.  Tunison  that  he  remembered,  as  a  boy,  being 
given  a  prize  for  English  literature  and  feeling  such  a  very 
little  fellow,  when  he  got  up  before  the  whole  school  to 
receive  it. 

His  appearance  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  ungainly, 
and  he  was  exceedingly  shortsighted.  When  reading  he 
had  to  bring  the  book  very  close  to  his  eyes.  He  had  a 

45 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

great  taste  for  the  strange  and  weird,  and  had  a  certain 
humour  of  a  grim  character.  There  was  always  something 
mysterious  about  him,  a  mystery  which  he  delighted  in  in 
creasing  rather  than  dissipating.  The  confession  which  he 
is  supposed  to  have  made  to  Father  William  Wrennal  that 
he  hoped  the  devil  would  come  to  him  in  the  form  of  a 
beautiful  woman,  as  he  had  come  to  the  anchorites  in  the 
desert,  was  worthy  of  his  fellow-countryman  Sheridan,  in 
its  Celtic  mischief  and  humour. 

Mr.  Achilles  Daunt,  of  Kilcascan  Castle,  County  Cork, 
seems  to  have  been  Lafcadio's  principal  chum  at  Ushaw. 
Mr.  Daunt  has  considerable  literary  talents  himself,  and 
has  written  one  or  two  delightful  books  of  travel.  His 
reminiscences  of  Lafcadio  Hearn  at  Ushaw  are  far  the  most 
detailed  and  interesting.  He  says  that  Lafcadio's  descrip 
tive  talent  was  already  noticeable  in  those  days.  The  wild 
and  ghostly  in  literature  was  what  chiefly  attracted  him. 
"Naturally  of  a  sceptical  turn  of  mind,  he  once  rather 
shocked  some  of  us  by  demanding  evidence  of  beliefs,  which 
we  had  never  dreamt  of  questioning.  He  loved  nature  in 
her  exterior  aspects,  and  his  conversation,  for  a  lad  of 
his  age,  was  highly  picturesque.  Knightly  feats  of  arms, 
combats  with  gigantic  foes  in  deep  forests,  low  red  moons 
throwing  their  dim  light  across  desolate  spaces,  and  glint 
ing  on  the  armour  of  great  champions,  storms  howling  over 
wastes  and  ghosts  shrieking  in  the  gale — these  were  favour 
ite  topics  of  conversation,  and  in  describing  these  fancies 
his  language  was  unusually  rich. 

"I  believe  he  was  regarded  as  slightly  off  his  mental 
balance.  He  and  I  were  at  one  time  in  the  same  class ;  but 
he  was  kept  for  two  years  in,  I  think,  the  class  or  '  school, ' 
as  we  called  it,  of  'High  Figures/1  This  separated  us  a 

i"High  Figures"  is  the  name  of  a  class  or  "School"  (as  we  call 
"classes"  at  Ushaw),  e.g.  Low  Figures,  High  Figures,  Grammar, 
Syntax,  Poetry,  Rhetoric,  etc.  If  a  boy  is  kept  in  ths  same  school 

46 


USHAW 

little,  as  the  lads  in  the  High  Figures  were  not  permitted 
to  use  the  same  library  as  we  used  in  the  '  Grammar  Class. ' 
A  note  was  handed  to  me  one  evening  from  him  as  I  sat 
reading  in  this  library,  inviting  me  to  take  a  stroll.  The 
style  of  this  epistle  was  eminently  characteristic  of  his 
tastes  and  style,  and  although  it  is  now  more  than  forty 
years  ago,  I  think  the  following  is  very  nearly  a  correct 
copy  of  it : — 

"  'Meet  me  at  twelve  at  the  Gothic  door, 
Massive  and  quaint,  of  the  days  of  yore; 
When  the  spectral  forms  of  the  mighty  dead 
Glide  by  in  the  moonlight  with  silent  tread; 
When  the  owl  from  the  branch  of  the  blasted  oak 

Shrieks  forth  his  note  so  wild, 
And  the  toad  from  the  marsh  echoes  with  croak 

In  the  moonlight  soft  and  mild, 
When  the  dead  in  the  lonely  vaults  below 

Rise  up  in  grim  array 
And  glide  past  with  footsteps  hushed  and  slow, 

Weird  forms,  unknown  in  day; 
When  the  dismal  death-bells  clang  so  near, 

Sounding  o'er  world  and  lea, 
And  the  wail  of  the  spirits  strikes  the  ear 

Like  the  moan  of  the  sobbing  sea.' 

"He  was  always  at  school  called  Paddy.  He  would 
never  tell  what  the  initial  'L'  stood  for;  probably  fearing 
that  his  companions  would  make  sport  of  a  name  which 
to  them  would  seem  outlandish,  or  at  least  odd.  His  face 
usually  bore  an  expression  of  sadness,  although  he  now 
and  then  romped  as  gaily  as  any  of  his  comrades.  But  the 
sadness  returned  when  the  passing  excitement  was  over. 

or  class  for  two  years,  e.  g.  High  Figures,  it  is  owing  to  his  not 
being  fit  to  be  moved  up  into  the  next  class,  Grammar.  Each  class 
has  its  own  library,  so  that  a  boy  in  the  class  of  High  Figures  would 
not  be  allowed  to  intrude  into  the  Library  of  the  school  or  class 
above  him,  Grammar. 

47 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

He  cared  little,  or  not  at  all,  for  school  games,  cricket, 
football,  etc.,  and  this  not  merely  because  of  his  want  of 
sight,  but  because  they  failed  to  interest  him.  I  and  he 
were  in  the  habit  of  walking  round  the  shrubberies  in  the 
front  of  the  College,  indulging  our  tastes  in  fanciful  con 
versation  until  the  bell  summoned  us  again  to  study. 

"A  companion  one  day  alluded  to  the  length  of  his  home 
address.  Lafcadio  said  his  address  was  longer — 'P.  L. 
Hearn,  Esq.,  Ushaw  College,  near  Durham,  England,  Eu 
rope,  Eastern  Hemisphere,  The  Earth,  Universe,  Space, 
God/  His  companion  allowed  that  his  address  was  more 
modest. 

* '  You  ask  if  Hearn  ever  spent  his  holidays  with  relatives 
in  Ireland  or  Wales.  As  far  as  I  can  remember,  he  lat 
terly  never  left  Ushaw  during  the  vacations.  He  was 
reticent  regarding  his  family,  and  although  I  believe  I  was 
his  most  intimate  friend  I  cannot  recall  his  ever  having 
told  me  anything  of  his  relations  with  his  family,  or  of  his 
childhood. " 

It  is  presumably  to  Mr.  Achilles  Daunt  that  Hearn  al 
ludes  in  a  letter  written  thirty  years  after  he  had  left 
Ushaw,  which  has  been  placed  as  a  heading  to  this  chapter. 

At  this  time  occurred  an  incident  that  influenced  the 
whole  of  Hearn 's  subsequent  life.  While  playing  a  game 
known  as  the  ''Giant's  Stride"  one  of  his  companions  al 
lowed  the  knotted  end  of  the  rope  to  slip  from  his  hand. 
It  struck  Lafcadio,  and  in  consequence  of  the  inflammation 
supervening  he  lost  the  sight  of  an  eye.  "I  am  horribly 
disfigured  by  the  loss  of  my  left  eye,"  he  tells  Mrs.  Atkin 
son,  "punched  out  at  school.  They  are  gentle  in  English 
Schools,  particularly  in  Jesuitical  schools ! "  He  elsewhere 
mentions  an  operation  undergone  in  Dublin  in  the  hope  of 
saving  the  eye.  Of  this  statement  we  have  no  confirmation. 

Lafcadio  seems  to  have  been  born  with  prominent  near 
sighted  eyes.  They  must  have  been  a  Hearn  inheritance, 

48 


USHAW 

for  Mrs.  Atkinson's  son,  Carleton,  has  prominent  myopic 
eyes,  and  Lafcadio's  eldest  son  has  been  disqualified,  by 
his  near-sight,  from  entering  the  Japanese  army. 

There  is  something  intensely  pathetic  in  Hearn's  per 
ception  of  the  idea  of  beauty,  and  of  the  reality  manifested 
in  his  own  person.  Something  of  the  ghostliness  in  his 
present  shell  must  have  belonged,  he  imagined,  to  the  van 
ished  world  of  beauty,  must  have  mingled  freely  with  the 
best  of  youth  and  grace  and  force,  must  have  known  the 
worth  of  long,  lithe  limbs  on  the  course  of  glory,  and  of 
the  pride  of  a  winner  in  contests,  and  the  praise  of  maidens, 
stately  as  the  young  sapling  of  a  palm  which  Odysseus  be 
held  springing  by  the  altar  in  Delos. 

Little  of  beauty,  or  grace,  or  lithe  limbs  belonged  to 
Paddy  Ilearn.  He  never  was  more  than  five  feet  three 
inches  in  height  and  was  much  disfigured  by  his  injured 
eye.  The  idea  that  he  was  repulsive  in  appearance,  espe 
cially  to  women,  always  pursued  him. 

Adversity  sows  the  seed.  With  his  extraordinary  re 
cuperative  power,  Lafcadio  all  his  life  made  ill-luck  an 
effective  germinating  power. 

Twenty  years  later,  in  one  of  his  editorials  in  the  Times 
Democrat,  he  alludes  to  the  artistic  value  of  myopia  for  an 
impressionist  artist,  declaring  that  the  inability  to  see  de 
tail  in  a  landscape  makes  it  more  mystical  and  impressive. 
Certainly,  in  imaginative  work  his  defective  sight  seems, 
if  one  can  say  so,  a  help,  rather  than  a  drawback  in  the  con 
juring  up  of  ghostly  scenes  and  wraiths  and  imaginings, 
glimpses,  as  it  were,  enlarging  and  extending  the  world 
around  him  and  insight  into  others  far  removed  from  ordi 
nary  comprehension  or  practical  insight.  The  quality  of 
double  perception  became  at  last  a  cultivated  habit  of  mind. 
"I  have  the  double  sensation  of  being  myself  a  ghost,  and 
of  being  haunted — haunted  by  the  prodigious,  luminous 
spectre  of  the  world,"  he  says,  in  his  essay  on  "Dust." 

49 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

The  fact  remains,  however,  that  no  pursuits  requiring 
quickness  and  accuracy  of  sight  were  henceforth  possible 
for  him;  the  cultivation  of  his  quite  remarkable  talent  for 
drawing  was  out  of  the  question.  No  doubt  his  sight  had 
been  defective  from  birth,  but  the  entire  loss  of  the  sight 
of  one  eye  intensified  it  to  a  considerable  extent,  and 
kept  him  in  continual  terror  of  complete  loss  of  visual 
power. 

It  has  been  stated  that  Lafcadio  Hearn  was  expelled 
from  Ushaw.  Ecclesiastics  are  not  prone  to  state  their 
reasons  for  any  line  of  action  they  may  choose  to  take. 
No  inquiries  were  made  and  no  reasons  were  given.  His 
departure  is  easily  accounted  for  without  any  question  of 
expulsion.  In  fact,  it  was  a  matter  of  necessity,  for  in 
consequence  of  the  loss  of  the  money,  invested  in  the  Moly- 
neux  business,  his  grand-aunt  was  no  longer  able  to  pay 
his  school  fees. 

Towards  the  end  of  his  residence  at  college  he  generally 
spent  his 'holidays  (or  a  portion  of  them)  at  Ushaw,  going 
home  less  and  less  as  time  went  on. 

Mrs.  Brenane 's  mind,  weakened  by  age  and  misfortune, 
was  incapable  any  longer  of  forming  a  sound  opinion. 
Those  surrounding  her  persuaded  her  that  the  boy  whom 
she  had  hitherto  loved  as  her  own  son,  and  declared  her 
heir,  was  a  "scapegrace  and  infidel,  no  fit  inmate  for  a 
Christian  household/'  Besides  which,  the  lamentable  fact 
remained  that  she,  who  only  a  few  years  before  had  lived 
in  affluence,  no  longer  owned  a  home  of  her  own,  and  Laf 
cadio  was  hardly  likely  to  care  to  avail  himself  of  Moly- 
neux's  hospitality. 

At  the  time  of  Henry  Molyneux's  marriage  to  Miss  Agnes 
Keogh,  a  marriage  which  took  place  a  year  before  his 
failure  in  1866,  Mrs.  Brenane  bestowed  the  whole  of  the 
landed  property  her  husband,  Justin  Brenane,  had  left 
her,  in  the  form  of  a  marriage  settlement  on  the  young 

50 


USHAW 

lady.  The  rest  of  her  life,  therefore,  was  spent  as  a  de 
pendent  in  the  Molyneux's  house,  Sweetbriars,  Tramore. 

Thus  did  Lafcadio  Hearn  lose  his  inheritance,  but  if  he 
had  inherited  it  would  he  ever  have  been  the  artist  he 
ultimately  became  ?  He  was  wont  to  say  that  hard  knocks 
and  intellectual '  starvation  were,  with  him,  a  necessary 
stimulus  to  creative  work,  and  pain  of  exceeding  value 
betimes.  "Everybody  who  does  me  a  wrong,  indirectly 
does  me  a  right,  I  am  forced  to  detach  myself  from  things 
of  the  world,  and  devote  myself  to  things  of  the  imagination 
and  spirit." 

Amidst  luxurious  surroundings,  with  a  liberal  compe 
tency  to  live  upon,  might  he  not  perhaps  have  spent  his 
life  in  reading  or  formulating  vague  philosophical  theo 
ries,  seeking  the  "unknown  reality,"  instead  of  being 
driven  by  the  pressing  reality  of  having  to  support  a  wife 
and  children? 


51 


CHAPTER  V 

LONDON 

"In  Art-study  one  must  devote  one's  whole  life  to  self-culture,  and 
can  only  hope  at  last  to  have  climbed  a  little  higher  and  advanced  a 
little  farther  than  anybody  else.  You  should  feel  the  determination 
of  those  Neophytes  of  Egypt  who  were  led  into  subterranean  vaults 
and  suddenly  abandoned  in  darkness  and  rising  water  whence  there 
was  no  escape,  save  by  an  iron  ladder. 

"As  the  fugitive  mounted  through  heights  of  darkness,  each  rung  of 
the  quivering  stairway  gave  way  immediately  he  had  quitted  it,  and 
fell  back  into  the  abyss,  echoing;  but  the  least  exhibition  of  fear  or 
weariness  was  fatal  to  the  climber."  1 

A  PARLOUR-MAID  of  Mrs.  Brenane's,  Catherine  by  name, 
who  had  accompanied  her  from  Ireland  when  the  old  lady 
came  over  to  the  Molyneux's  house  at  Redhill,  had  married 
a  man  of  the  name  of  Delaney,  and  had  settled  in  London, 
near  the  docks,  where  her  husband  was  employed  as  a 
labourer.  To  them  Hearn  went  when  he  left  Ushaw.  The 
Delaneys  were  in  fairly  comfortable  circumstances,  and 
Hearn 's  account  in  the  letters — the  only  ones  we  have  of 
his  at  this  time — written  to  his  school-friend,  Mr.  Achilles 
Daunt,  of  the  grimness  of  the  surroundings  in  which  his 
lot  was  cast,  of  the  nightly  sounds  of  horror,  of  windows 
thrown  violently  open,  or  shattered  into  pieces,  of  shrieks 
of  agony,  cries  of  murder,  and  plunges  in  the  river,  are  to 
be  ascribed  to  his  supersensitive  and  excitable  imagination. 

The  artist  cannot  always  be  tied  down  to  the  strict  letter 
of  the  law.  It  inspires  a  much  deeper  human  interest  to 
picture  genius  struggling  against  overwhelming  odds — 

i  "The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lafacadio  Hearn/'  Houghton,  Mifflin  & 
Co. 

52 


LONDON 

poverty-stricken,  starving — than  lazily  and  luxuriously 
floating  down  the  current  of  life  with  unlimited  cham 
pagne  and  chicken  mayonnaise  on  board. 

Stevenson  was  at  this  time  supposed  to  be  living  like 
a  " weevil  in  a  biscuit,"  when  his  father  was  only  too 
anxious  to  give  him  an  allowance.  Jimmy  Whistler,  only 
a  little  way  up  the  river  from  Hearn,  at  Wapping,  was 
said  to  be  living  on  "cat's  meat  and  cheese  parings,"  when, 
if  he  had  chosen  to  conform  to  the  most  elementary  prin 
ciples  of  business,  he  might  have  been  in  easy  circumstances 
by  the  sale  of  his  work. 

As  to  direct  penury,  and  Hearn 's  statement  that  he 
* l  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  the  workhouse, ' '  if  accurate 
it  must  have  been  brought  about  by  his  own  improvident 
and  intractable  nature  and  invariable  refusal  to  submit  to 
discipline  or  restraint  of  any  kind. 

Hearn 's  memories  of  his  youth  were  extremely  vague. 
Referring  to  this  period  of  his  life  later,  in  Japan,  he  tells 
a  pupil  that,  though  some  of  his  relations  were  rich,  none 
of  them  offered  to  pay  to  enable  him  to  finish  his  education ; 
and  though  brought  up  in  a  luxurious  home,  surrounded 
by  western  civilisation,  he  was  obliged  to  educate  himself 
in  spite  of  overwhelming  difficulties,  and  in  consequence  of 
the  neglect  of  his  relations,  partly  lost  his  sight,  spent  two 
years  in  bed,  and  was  forced  to  become  a  servant. 

This  is  a  remarkable  case  of  Celtic  rebellion  against  the 
despotism  of  fact.  He  never  was  called  upon  to  fill  the 
duties  of  a  servant  until  he  arrived  in. America.  He  never 
could  have  spent  two  years  in  bed,  for  there  are  no  two 
years  unaccounted  for,  either  at  this  time  or  later  in  Cin 
cinnati.  It  would  not  have  suited  the  policy  of  those  rul 
ing  his  destiny  to  leave  him  in  a  state  of  destitution.  A 
certain  allowance  was  probably  sent  to  Catherine  Delaney, 
as  later  in  Cincinnati  to  Mr.  Cullinane,  sufficient  for  his 
keep  and  every-day  expenses. 

53 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

With  a  knowledge  of  Lafcadio's  methods,  we  can  im 
agine  that  any  sum  given  to  him  would  probably  have  run 
through  his  fingers  within  the  first  hour — his  last  farthing 
spent  on  the  purchase  of  a  book  or  curio  that  fascinated 
him  in  a  shop  window.  Thus  he  might  find  himself  miles 
away  from  home,  obliged  to  obtain  haphazard  the  means  of 
supplying  himself  with  food  and  shelter.  Absence  of  mind 
was  characteristic  of  all  the  Hearns,  and  unpunctuality, 
until  he  was  drilled  and  disciplined  by  official  life  in  Japan, 
one  of  Lafcadio's  conspicuous  failings.  We  can  imagine 
the  practical  ex-parlourmaid  keeping  his  meals  waiting, 
during  the  first  period  of  his  stay,  and  gradually,  when 
she  found  that  no  dependence  could  be  placed  on  his  move 
ments,  taking  no  further  heed  or  trouble,  and  paying  no 
attention  to  his  coming  and  going. 

At  various  periods  during  the  course  of  his  life,  Hearn 
indulged  in  the  experiment  of  working  his  brain  at  the 
expense  of  his  body — sometimes  to  the  extent  of  seriously 
undermining  his  health,  and  having  to  submit  to  the  ne 
cessity  of  knocking  off  work  until  lost  ground  had  been 
made  up.  He  held  the  opinion  that  the  owner  of  pure 
"horse  health"  never  possessed  the  power  of  discerning 
"half  lights."  In  its  separation  of  the  spiritual  from  the 
physical  portion  of  existence,  severe  sickness  was  often 
invaluable  to  the  sufferer  by  the  revelation  it  bestows  of 
the  psychological  under-currents  of  human  existence. 
From  the  intuitive  recognition  of  the  terrible,  but  at  the 
same  time  glorious  fact,  that  the  highest  life  can  only  be 
reached  by  subordinating  physical  to  spiritual  influences, 
separating  the  immaterial  from  the  material  self,  lies  all 
the  history  of  asceticism  and  self-suppression  as  the  most 
efficacious  means  of  developing  religious  and  intellectual 
power. 

Fantastic  were  the  experiments  and  vagaries  he  indulged 
in  now  and  then,  as  when  he  tried  to  stay  the  pangs  of 

54 


LONDON 

hunger  at  Cincinnati  by  opium,  or  when,  on  his  first  ar 
rival  in  Japan,  he  insisted  on  adopting  a  diet  of  rice  and 
lotus  roots,  until  he  discovered  that  endeavouring  to  make 
the  body  but  a  vesture  for  the  soul,  means  irritated  nerves, 
weak  eyesight  and  acute  dyspepsia. 

Now,  even  as  a  lad,  began  Hearn's  life  of  loneliness  and 
withdrawal  from  communion  with  his  fellows.  Buoyed 
up  by  an  undefined  instinct  that  he  possessed  power 
of  some  sort,  biding  his  time,  possessing  his  soul  in  silence, 
and  wrapping  a  cloak  of  reserve  about  his  internal  hopes 
and  aims,  he  gradually  turned  all  his  thoughts  into  one 
channel. 

Youth  has  a  marvellous  fashion  of  accepting  injustice 
and  misrepresentation,  if  allowed  to  keep  its  inner  life 
untouched.  Now  he  showed  that  strange  mixture  of  weak 
ness  and  strength,  stoicism  and  sensibility,  ignorance  of 
the  world,  and  stubborn  resistance  to  external  influence 
that  distinguished  him  all  through  the  course  of  his  life. 
If  those  amongst  whom  his  lines  had  hitherto  been  cast 
chose  to  cast  him  forth,  and  look  upon  him  as  a  pariah,  he 
would  not  even  deign  to  excuse  himself,  or  seek  to  be  re 
instated  in  their  affections. 

After  all,  what  signify  the  nettles  and  brambles  by  the 
wayside,  when  in  front  lies  the  road  leading  to  a  shining 
goal  of  hope,  of  work,  of  achievement?  What  matter  a 
heavy  heart  and  an  empty  stomach,  when  you  are  stuffing 
your  brain  to  repletion  with  new  impressions  and  artistic 
material  ? 

Slowly  and  surely  even  now  he  was  coming  to  the  con 
viction  that  literature  was  his  vocation,  and  he  began  pre 
paring  himself,  struggling,  as  he  expresses  it,  with  that 
dumbness,  that  imperfection  of  utterance,  that  beset  the 
literary  beginner,  arising  generally  from  the  fact  that  the 
latent  thought  or  emotion  has  not  yet  defined  itself  with 
sufficient  sharpness.  "Analyse  it,  make  the  effort  of  try- 

55 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ing  to  understand  exactly  the  emotion  that  moves  us,  and 
the  necessary  utterance  will  come,  until  at  last  the  emo 
tional  idea  develops  itself  unconsciously.  Analysing  the 
feeling  that  remains  dim,  and  making  the  effort  of  trying 
to  understand  exactly  the  emotion  that  moves  us,  prompt 
at  last  the  necessary  utterance.  Every  feeling  is  expres 
sible.  .  .  .  You  may  work  at  a  page  for  months  before 
the  idea  clearly  develops,  the  result  is  often  surprising ;  for 
our  best  work  is  often  out  of  the  unconscious. ' ' 

Already  in  the  small  frail  body,  with  half  the  eyesight 
given  to  other  men,  dwelt  that  quality  of  perseverance, 
that  indomitable  determination  which,  with  all  Hearn's 
deviations  from  the  straight  path,  with  all  his  blunder- 
ings,  guided  him  at  last  out  of  the  perplexities  and  weari 
ness  of  life  into  calm  and  sunlight,  to  the  enjoyment 
of  that  happiness  which  was  possible  to  a  man  of  his 
temperament. 

"All  roads  lead  to  Rome,"  but  it  is  well  for  the  artist 
if  he  find  the  right  one  early  in  his  career.  Hearn  set 
forth  on  his  pilgrimage  within  hearing  of  the  tolling  of 
the  bell  of  St.  Paul's,  ending  it  within  hearing  of  the 
"bronze  beat"  of  the  temple  bell  of  Yokohama,  carrying 
through  all  his  romantic  journey  ings  that  most  wonderful 
romance  of  all,  his  own  genius. 

"Well,  you  too  have  had  your  revelations, — which  means 
deep  pains.  One  must  pay  a  price  to  see  and  to  know," 
he  writes  to  Mrs.  Atkinson,  recalling  these  days.  "Still, 
the  purchase  is  worth  making." 

Great  as  the  deprivation  must  have  been,  not  to  return 
to  the  meadows  and  flowery  lanes  of  Tramore,  to  the  wind 
swept  bay,  and  the  sound  of  the  undulating  tide,  what  a 
chance  was  now  offered  him !  A  free  charter  of  the  streets 
of  London.  If,  as  he  says,  he  had  received  no  education 
at  Ushaw,  he  received  it  here,  the  best  of  all,  in  these 
grimy,  sordid  surroundings,  noting  the  pathos  of  every- 

56 


LONDON 

day  things,  fascinated  by  the  sight  of  the  human  stream  / 
pouring  through  the  streets  of  the  great  metropolis,  its  cur 
rents  and  counter-currents  and  eddyings,  strengthening  or 
weakening,  as  the  tide  rose  or  ebbed,  of  the  city  sea  of  toil. 
This  was  what  gave  his  genius  that  breadth  of  vision  and 
range  of  emotion  which,  half  a  century  later,  enabled  him 
to  interpret  the  ceremony  and  discipline,  the  sympathy  or 
repulsion,  the  "race  ghost"  of  the  most  mysterious  people 
on  the  face  of  the  globe.     We  can  see  in  imagination  the 
odd-looking  lad  creeping,  in  his  gentle,  near-sighted  fash 
ion,  through  the  vast  necropolis  of  dead  gods  in  the  British 
Museum,  where  later,  in  an  eloquent  passage  at  the  end  of 
one  of  his  essays,  he  pictures  a  Japanese  Buddha,  "cham 
bered  with  forgotten  divinities  of  Egypt  or  Babylon  under 
the  gloom  of  a  pea  soup  fog, ' '  trembling  faintly  at  the  roar 
of   London.     "All   to   what   end?"   he   asks   indignantly. 
"To  aid  another  Alma  Tadema  to  paint  the  beauty   of 
another  vanished  civilisation  or  to  illustrate  an  English 
dictionary  of  Buddhism;  perhaps  to  inspire  some  future 
Laureate  with  a  metaphor  startling. as  Tennyson's  figure 
of  the  'Oiled  and  curled  Assyrian  Bull'?    Will  they  be 
preserved  in  vain?     Each  idol  shaped  by  human  faith  re 
mains  the  shell  of  truth  eternally  divine,  and  even  the 
shell  itself  may  hold  a  ghostly  power.     The  soft  serenity, 
the  passionless  tenderness  of  those  Buddha  faces  might 
yet  give  peace  of  soul  to  a  West  weary  of  creeds,  trans 
formed  into  conventions,  eager  for  the  coming  of  another 
teacher  to  proclaim,  'I  have  the  same  feeling  for  the  High 
as  the  Low,  for  the  moral  as  the  immoral,  for  the  depraved 
as  for  the  virtuous,  for  those  holding  sectarian  views  and 
false  opinions   as  for  those  whose  beliefs  are  good  and 
true.'  " 

We  can  see  him  sitting  on  the  parapet  of  the  dock  wall,    ; 
watching  the  white-winged  ships,  "swift  Hermae  of  traffic 
— ghosts  of  the  infinite  ocean,"  put  out  to  sea,  some  of 

57  I 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

them  bound  for  those  tropical  lands  of  which  he  dreamed ; 
others  coming  in,  landing  sphinx-like,  oblique-eyed  little 
men  from  that  country  in  the  Far  East  of  which  he  was 
one  day  destined  to  become  the  interpreter. 

We  know  of  nothing  that  he  wrote  at  this  time,  but  no 
doubt  many  were  the  sheets — destroyed  then  and  there 
as  dangerous  and  heretical  stuff — that  fell  into  Catherine 
Delaney's  hands.  "What  she  could  not  destroy,  were  the 
indelible  visions  and  impressions,  bitten  deep  by  the  aqua 
fortis  of  memory  on  the  surface  of  his  sensitive  brain. 

"One  summer  evening,  twenty-five  years  ago,  in  a  Lon 
don  park,  I  heard  a  girl  say  'good-night'  to  somebody 
passing  by.  Nothing  but  those  two  little  words — '  good 
night.'  Who  she  was  I  do  not  know.  I  never  even  saw 
her  face,  and  I  never  heard  that  voice  again.  But  still, 
after  the  passing  of  one  hundred  seasons,  the  memory  of 
her  *  Good-night'  brings  a  double  thrill  incomprehensible 
of  pleasure  and  pain — pain  and  pleasure,  doubtless, 
not  of  me,  not  of  my  own  existence,  but  of  pre-existence 
and  dead  suns. 

"For  that  which  makes  the  charm  of  a  voice  thus  heard 
but  once  cannot  be  of  this  life.  It  is  of  lives  innumerable 
and  forgotten.  Certainly  there  never  have  been  two  voices 
having  precisely  the  same  quality.  But  in  the  utterance 
of  affection  there  is  a  tenderness  of  timbre  common  to  the 
myriad  million  voices  of  all  humanity.  Inherited  memory 
makes  familiar  even  to  the  newly-born  the  meaning  of  this 
tone  of  caress.  Inherited,  no  doubt,  likewise  our  knowl 
edge  of  the  tones  of  sympathy,  of  grief,  of  pity.  And  so 
the  chant  of  a  blind  woman  in  this  city  of  the  Far  East 
may  revive  in  even  a  Western  mind  emotion  deeper  than 
individual  being — vague  dumb  pathos  of  forgotten  sor 
rows,  dim  loving  impulses  of  generations  unremembered. 
The  dead  die  never  utterly.  They  sleep  in  the  darkest 
cells  of  tired  hearts  and  busy  brains,  to  be  startled  at 

58 


LONDON 

rarest  moments  only  by  the  echo  of  some  voices  that  re 
calls  their  past. ' ' x 

It  is  interesting  to  feel  the  throb  of  the  intellectual 
pulse  of  England  in  the  late  sixties  when  Lafcadio  Hearn 
was  wandering  about  the  wilderness  of  London,  absorbing 
thoughts  and  storing  ideas  for  the  future. 

Tennyson  had  done  his  best  work.  * '  Maud ' '  and  ' '  Locks- 
ley  Hall ' '  were  in  every  one 's  heart  and  on  every  one 's  lips, 
illustrating  the  trend  and  the  expression  of  men 's  thoughts. 
Walter  Pater  and  Matthew  Arnold,  at  Oxford,  were  form 
ing  the  modern  school  of  English  prose;  Ruskin  in  his 
fourth-floor  room  at  Maida  Yale,  with  "the  lights  of 
heaven  for  his  candles,"  was  opening  the  mind  of  middle- 
class  England  to  a  new  set  of  art  theories.  The  Brownings 
were  in  Bryanston  Square,  she  occupied  in  writing  "Au 
rora  Leigh,"  he  in  completing  "Sordello."  William  Mor 
ris,  ' '  in  dismal  Queen 's  Square,  in  black,  filthy  old  London, 
in  dull  end  of  October,  was  making  a  wondrous  happy 
poem,  with  four  sets  of  lovers,  called  'Love  is  Enough.'  " 
The  Pre-Raphaelite  brotherhood  were  trying  to  lead  Eng 
lishmen  out  of  the  "sloshy"  bread-and-butter  school  of 
sentimentalism  to  what  they  called  "truth"  in  subject  and 
execution.  The  Germ  wras  running  its  short  and  erratic 
career;  Rossetti  had  published  in  its  pages  the  "Blessed 
Damozel,"  had  finished  "The  Burden  of  Nineveh,"  and 
had  begun  the  * '  House  of  Life. ' '  Jimmy  Whistler,  during 
the  intervals  of  painting  "Nocturnes"  at  Cherry  Tree  Inn, 
was  ftying  over  to  Paris,  returning  laden  with  "  Japaneser- 
ies,"  exhibiting  for  the  first  time  to  the  public,  at  his  house 
in  Chelsea,  a  flutter  of  purple  fans,  and  kakemonos  em 
broidered  at  the  foot  of  Fuji-no-yama,  which,  in  his  whim 
sical  way,  he  declared  to  be  "as  beautiful  as  the  Parthenon 
marbles." 

Darwin  had  fulminated  his  scientific  principles  of  nat' 

i  From  "A  Street  Singer,"  "Kokoro,"  Messrs.  Gay  &  Hancock. 

59 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ural  selection  and  evolution,  fanning  into  a  flame  the  con 
flict  between  religious  orthodoxy  and  natural  science. 
Theologians  were  up  in  arms.  To  doubt  a  single  theo 
logical  tenet,  or  the  literal  accuracy  of  an  ancient  Hebraic 
text,  seemed  to  them  to  place  the  whole  reality  of  re 
ligious  life  and  nature  in  question.  Ten  years  before, 
Herbert  Spencer  had  been  introduced  by  Huxley  to  Tyn- 
dall  as  "Ein  Kerl  der  speculirt,"  and  well  had  he  main 
tained  the  character;  "Principles  of  Ethics"  had  already 
been  written  and  he  was  at  work  at  the  "Synthetic  Phi 
losophy.  ' ' 

Science,  however,  in  those  days  seems  to  have  been  a 
closed  book  to  Lafcadio.  The  wrangles  and  discussions 
over  eastern  legend  and  the  creation  of  the  world  as  set 
forth  in  Genesis  never  seem  to  have  reached  his  mind, 
until  years  afterwards  in  New  Orleans.  He  appears  to 
have  wandered  rather  in  the  byways  of  fiction,  devouring 
any  rubbish  that  came  his  way  in  the  free  libraries  he 
frequented.  It  is  surprising  to  think  of  the  writer  of 
"Japan,  an  Interpretation, "  having  been  fascinated  by 
Wilkie  Collins 's  "Armadale."  The  name  "Ozias  Mid 
winter,"  indeed,  he  used  afterwards  as  a  pseudonym  for 
the  series  of  letters  contributed  to  the  Commercial  from 
New  Orleans.  There  is  a  certain  pathos  in  the  appeal  that 
the  description  of  the  personality  and  character  of  Mid 
winter  made  to  his  imagination.  "What  had  I  known  of 
strangers'  hands  all  through  my  childhood?  I  had  only 
known  them  as  hands  raised  to  threaten.  What  had  I 
known  of  other  men 's  voices  ?  I  had  known  them  as  voices 
that  jeered,  voices  that  whispered  against  me  in  corners. 
.  .  .  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  I  have  been  used  to  be 
hunted  and  cheated  and  starved." 

Lafcadio 's  stay  in  London  lasted  a  year;  an  imagination 
such  as  his  lives  an  eternity  in  a  year.  A  veil  of  mystery 
overhangs  the  period  intervening  between  this  and  his  ar- 

60 


LONDON 

rival  in  America  which  I  have  in  vain  endeavoured  to 
penetrate. 

Mr.  Milton  Bronner,  in  his  preface  to  the  ' '  Letters  from 
the  Raven,"  alludes  to  the  "travel-stained,  poverty-bur 
dened  lad  of  nineteen,  who  had  'run  away  from  a  Monas 
tery  in  Wales/  and  who  still  had  part  of  his  monk's  garb 
for  clothing." 

In  writing  Hearn's  biography,  it  is  always  well  to  re 
member  his  tendency  to  embroider  upon  the  drab  back 
ground  of  fact.  Mrs.  Koizumi,  his  widow,  told  us  in 
Japan  that  when  applying  for  an  appointment,  as  professor 
at  the  Waseda  University,  her  husband  informed  the  offi 
cials  that  he  had  been  educated  in  England  and  Ireland, 
"also  some  time  in  France."  His  brother,  Daniel  James, 
at  present  a  farmer  at  St.  Louis,  Michigan,  says  that  he 
knows  Lafcadio  to  have  been  for  some  time  at  college  in 
France,  and  Mr.  Joseph  Tunison,  his  intimate  friend  at 
Cincinnati,  states  that  Lafcadio,  when  talking  of  his  later 
childhood  and  youth,  referred  to  Ireland,  England,  and 
"some  time  at  school  in  France."  Hitherto  it  has  been  a 
task  of  no  difficulty  to  trace  the  inmates  of  Roman  Cath 
olic  colleges  abroad,  it  having  been  customary  to  keep  rec 
ords  of  the  name  of  every  inmate  and  student  of  each  col 
lege,  but  since  the  breaking  up  of  the  religious  houses  in 
France,  many  of  these  records  have  been  lost  or  destroyed. 

Strong  internal  evidence,  which  it  is  unnecessary  to 
quote  here,  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  delivered, 
as  a  scapegrace  and  good-for-nothing,  into  the  charge  of 
the  ecclesiastics  at  the  Roman  Catholic  institution  of  the 
Petits  Precepteurs  at  Yvetot,  near  Rouen.  Finding  their 
methods  of  calling  sinners  to  repentance  unendurable,  he 
took  the  key  of  the  fields,  and  made  a  bolt  of  it.  If,  as  we 
imagine,  he  went  to  Paris,  he  most  certainly  did  not  reveal 
himself  to  his  Uncle  Richard,  who  was  living  there  at  the 
time. 

61 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Though  henceforward  the  ecclesiastical  element,,  as  an 
active  factor,  disappeared  out  of  Hearn's  life,  he  seems  to 
have  been  pursued  by  a  sort  of  half-insane  fear  of  the 
possibility  of  Jesuitical  revenge.  The  church,  he  declared, 
was  inexorable  and  cruel;  he  preferred,  therefore,  not  to 
place  himself  within  the  domain  of  her  sway,  holding  aloof, 
as  far  as  possible,  from  Roman  Catholic  circles  in  New 
Orleans,  and  renouncing  the  idea  of  a  visit  to  the  Spanish 
island  of  Manila. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  intellectual  eagerness  and  curi 
osity — appanage  of  his  artistic  nature — with  which  Hearn 
must  have  entered  Paris.  Paris,  where,  as  he  says,  *  *  talent 
is  mediocrity;  art,  a  frenzied  endeavour  to  express  the  In 
expressible;  human  endeavour,  a  spasmodic  straining  to 
clutch  the  Unattainable. " 

A  few  weeks  would  have  sufficed  to  enable  him  to  col 
lect  vital  memories — memories  to  be  used  so  often  after 
wards  in  his  literary  work. 

It  was  the  period  just  before  the  outbreak  of  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war,  when  Paris,  under  the  Empire,  had  reached 
her  zenith  of  talent  and  luxury.  A  strange  mixture  of 
frivolity  and  earnestness  characterised  the  world  of  art. 
Theophile  Gautier  was  writing  his  "Mdlle.  de  Maupin," 
while  Victor  Hugo  was  thundering  forth  his  arraignment 
of  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  and  writing  epics  to  Liberty. 
Hearn  tells  of  French  artists  who  made  what  they  called 
4 ' coffee  pictures"  by  emptying  the  dregs  of  their  coffee 
upon  a  sheet  of  soft  paper  after  dinner  at  the  Chat  Noir, 
and  by  the  suggestions  of  the  shapes  of  the  stains  pictures 
were  inspired  and  developed,  according  to  the  artistic  ca 
pacity  of  the  painter.  Meanwhile,  in  his  humble  home  in 
Brittany,  Francois  Millet,  in  poverty  and  solitude,  was  liv 
ing  face  to  face  with  Nature  and  producing  "The  Sowers" 
and  "The  Angelus." 

Yet,  even  amongst  the  most  dissipated  members  of  this 

62 


LONDON 

Parisian  world  of  Bohemia,  one  principle  was  established 
and  followed,  and  this  principle  it  was  that  made  it  so 
invaluable  a  school  for  a  nature  such  as  Hearn's.  Never 
was  the  artistic  vocation  to  be  abandoned  for  any  other, 
however  lucrative,  not  even  when  art  remained  blind  and 
deaf  to  her  worshippers.  However  forlorn  the  hope  of 
ultimate  success,  it  was  the  artist's  duty  to  offer  up  burnt 
sacrifices  on  the  altar  of  the  divinity. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  boy  was  infected 
by  the  theory  that  ruled  supreme  of  "art  for  art's  sake." 
Art,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  moral  it  might  preach  or  the 
call  on  higher  spiritual  sentiments  but  for  itself.  This 
axiom  it  was  that  permeated  the  sinister  perfection  of 
Baudelaire,  the  verbal  beauty  of  Flaubert,  and  the  pictur- 
esqueness  of  Gautier.  For  a  young  craftsman  still  strug 
gling  with  the  manipulation  of  his  material  the  "Impres 
sionist  school,"  as  it  was  called,  presented  exceptional 
fascinations;  and  no  doubt  in  that  very  slender  outfit, 
which  he  tells  us  he  carried  in  the  emigrant  train  between 
New  York  and  Cincinnati,  some  volumes  of  these  French 
romantics  were  packed  away.  He  could  hardly  have  ob 
tained  them  in  the  America  of  that  day.  The  shelves  of 
the  Cincinnati  Free  Library  might  hold  Henry  James's 
"Essays"  in  praise  of  the  modern  French  literary  school, 
but  the  circulation  of  the  originals  would  certainly  not 
have  been  countenanced  by  the  directors. 

It  is  not  impossible  that,  when  in  Paris,  Lafcadio  came 
across  Robert  Louis  Stevenson.  The  year  that  he  was  born 
in  the  Ionian  Islands,  Stevenson  was  born  amidst  the  fogs 
and  mists  of  Edinburgh.  He  was  the  same  age,  there 
fore,  as  the  little  Irishman,  and  was  in  Paris  at  about  the 
same  time.  Whistler,  "the  Laird"  and  Du  Maurier  were 
both  also  frequenting  the  Quartier,  the  latter  collecting 
those  impressions  which  he  afterwards  recounted  in 
"Trilby" — "Trilby"  of  which  Lafcadio  writes  later  with 

63 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  delight  and  appreciation  of  things  experienced  and 
felt. 

In  1869  Lafcadio  Hearn  received  a  sum  of  money  from 
those  in  Ireland  who  had  taken  the  control  of  his  life  into 
their  hands,  and  he  was  directed  to  leave  Europe  for  Cin 
cinnati  in  the  United  States  of  America.  There  he  was 
consigned  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Cullinane,  Henry  Molyneux's 
brother-in-law. 

It  was  characteristic  that  Hearn  apparently  did  not 
attempt  to  propitiate  or  approach  his  grand-aunt,  Mrs. 
Brenane,  though  he  must  have  well  known  that  by  not  do 
ing  so  he  forfeited  all  chance  of  any  inheritance  she  might 
still  have  left  to  bestow  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 
CINCINNATI 

"...  I  think  there  was  one  mistake  in  the  story  of  (Edipus 
and  the  Sphinx.  It  was  the  sweeping  statement  about  the  Sphinx's 
alternative.  It  isn't  true  that  she  devoured  every  one  who  couldn't 
answer  her  riddles.  Everybody  meets  the  Sphinx  in  life; — so  I  can 
speak  from  authority.  She  doesn't  kill  people  like  me, — she  only 
bites  and  scratches  them;  and  I've  got  the  marks  of  her  teeth  in  a 
number  of  places  on  my  soul.  She  meets  me  every  few  years  and 
asks  the  same  tiresome  question, — and  I  have  latterly  contented  my 
self  with  simply  telling  her,  'I  don't  know.'  "  1 

IN  a  letter  to  his  sister,  written  from  Kumamoto,  in 
Japan,  years  later,  Hearn  tells  her  that  he  found  his  way 
to  the  office  of  an  old  English  printer,  named  Watkin, 
some  months  after  his  arrival  in  Cincinnati.  "I  asked 
him  to  help  me.  He  took  a  fancy  to  me,  and  said,  '  You  do 
not  know  anything;  but  I  will  teach  you.  You  can  sleep 
in  my  office.  I  cannot  pay  you,  because  you  are  of  no  use 
to  me,  except  as  a  companion,  but  I  can  feed  you.'  He 
made  me  a  paper-bed  (paper-shavings  from  the  book-trim 
ming  department) ;  it  was  nice  and  warm.  I  did  errand 
boy  in  the  intervals  of  tidying  the  papers,  sweeping  the 
floor  of  the  shop,  and  sharing  Mr.  Watkin 's  frugal  meals. ' ' 

In  Henry  Watkin 's  Reminiscences  the  purport  is  given 
of  the  conversation  that  passed  between  the  future  author 
of  "Kokoro"  and  himself  at  his  shop  in  the  city  of  Cin 
cinnati,  when  Hearn  first  found  his  way  there  in  the  year 
1859. 

i"The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co. 

65 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

' '  Well,  young  man,  what  ambition  do  you  nourish  ? ' ' 

"To  write,  sir." 

"Mercy  on  us.  Learn  something  that  will  put  bread  in 
your  mouth  first,  try  your  hand  at  writing  later  on." 

Henry  Watkin  was  a  person  apparently  of  elastic  views 
and  varied  reading;  self-educated,  but  shrewd  and  gifted 
with  a  natural  knowledge  of  mankind.  He  was  nearly 
thirty  years  older  than  the  boy  he  spoke  to,  but  he  remem 
bered  the  days  when  his  ideal  of  life  had  been  far  other 
than  working  a  printing-press  in  a  back  street  in  Cincin 
nati.  At  one  time  he  had  steeped  himself  in  the  French 
school  of  philosophy,  Fourierism  and  St.  Simonism;  then 
for  a  time  followed  Hegel  and  Kant,  regaling  himself  in 
lighter  moments  with  Edgar  Allan  Poe  and  Hoffmann's 
weird  tales. 

The  lad  who  had  come  to  solicit  his  aid  was  undersized, 
extremely  near-sighted — one  of  his  eyes,  in  consequence 
of  the  accident  that  had  befallen  him  at  Ushaw,  was  prom 
inent  and  white — he  was  intensely  shy,  and  had  a  certain 
caution  and  stealthiness  of  movement  that  in  itself  was 
apt  to  influence  people  against  him.  But  the  intellectual 
brow,  a  something  dignified  and  reserved  in  voice  and 
manner,  an  intangible  air  of  breeding,  arrested  Mr.  Wat- 
kin's  attention.  As  Hearn  somewhere  says,  hearts  are  the 
supreme  mysteries  in  life,  people  meet,  touch  each  other's 
inner  being  with  a  shock  and  a  feeling  as  if  they  had  seen 
a  ghost.  This  strange  waif,  who  had  drifted  to  the  door 
of  his  printing-office,  touched  Henry  Watkin 's  sympathetic 
nature;  he  discerned  at  once,  behind  the  unprepossessing 
exterior,  a  specific  individuality,  and  conceived  an  imme 
diate  affection  for  the  boy. 

Many  were  the  shifts  that  Lafcadio  had  been  put  to 
from  the  time  he  left  France  until  he  cast  anchor  in  the 
haven  of  Mr.  Watkin 's  printing-shop  in  a  retired  back 
street  in  the  city  of  Cincinnati. 

66 


CINCINNATI 

Filling  up  the  gaps  in  his  own  recital,  we  can  see  the 
sequence  of  events  that  invariably  distinguished  Hearn's 
progress  through  life.  In  his  improvident  manner  he  had 
apparently  squandered  the  money  that  had  been  contri 
buted  by  Mrs.  Brenane  for  his  journey,  and  thus  found 
himself  in  considerable  difficulties. 

Amongst  the  papers  found  after  his  death  was  a  sketch, 
inspired,  he  tells  Professor  Yrjo  Hirn,  writing  from 
Tokyo  in  January,  1902,  by  the  names  of  the  Scandinavian 
publishers,  Wahlstrom  and  Weilstrand.  It  is  sufficiently 
reminiscent  of  Stevenson  to  make  one  think  that  the  read 
ing  of  "  Across  the  Plains, "  rather  than  the  names  of 
Scandinavian  publishers,  was  responsible  for  its  inception. 
It  relates  very  much  the  same  experiences  as  Stevenson's 
on  his  journey  from  New  York  to  Chicago  in  an  American 
emigrant  train.  Absolutely  destitute  of  money  and  food, 
he  must  have  presented  a  forlorn  appearance.  Moved  to 
pity,  a  Norwegian  peasant  girl,  seated  opposite  him  in  the 
car,  offered  him  a  slice  of  brown  bread  and  yellow  cheese. 
Thirty-five  years  later  he  recalled  the  vision  of  this  kind- 
hearted  girl,  no  doubt  endowing  her  memory  with  a  beauty 
and  charm  that  never  were  hers — and  under  the  title  of 
"My  First  Romance"  left  it  for  publication  amongst  his 
papers. 

After  his  arrival  in  Cincinnati  the  lad  seems  very 
nearly  to  have  touched  the  confines  of  despair;  and  for 
some  months  lived  a  life  of  misery  such  as  seems  incred 
ible  for  a  person  of  intellect  and  refinement  in  a  civilised 
city.  Sometimes  when  quite  at  the  end  of  his  tether  he 
had,  it  appears,  to  sleep  in  dry-goods  boxes  in  grocers' 
sheds,  even  to  seek  shelter  in  a  disused  boiler  in  a  vacant 
"lot" 

"My  dear  little  sister, "  he  writes  years  afterwards  to 
Mrs.  Atkinson,  when  recounting  his  adventures  at  this 
period,  "has  been  very,  very  lucky,  she  has  not  seen  the 

67 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

wolf's  side  of  life,  the  ravening  side,  the  apish  side;  the 
ugly  facets  of  the  monkey  puzzle. 

"I  found  myself  dropped  into  the  enormous  machinery 
of  life  I  knew  nothing  about,  friends  tried  to  get  me  work 
after  I  had  been  turned  out  of  my  first  boarding-house 
through  inability  to  pay.  I  lost  father's  photograph  at 
that  time  by  seizure  of  all  my  earthly  possessions.  I  had 
to  sleep  for  nights  in  the  street,  for  which  the  police 
scolded  me;  then  I  found  refuge  in  a  mews,  where  some 
English  coachmen  allowed  me  to  sleep  in  a  hay-loft  at 
night,  and  fed  me  by  stealth  with  victuals  stolen  from  the 
house. ' ' 

This  incident  Mrs.  Wetmore,  in  her  biography  of  Hearn, 
refers  to  as  having  taken  place  during  his  stay  in  London. 
His  letter  to  his  sister  and  his  use  of  the  word  " dollars" 
in  estimating  the  value  of  the  horses,  unmistakably  con 
nects  the  scene  of  it  with  the  United  States,  where 
at  that  time  it  was  the  custom  to  employ  English  stable 
men. 

His  sketch,  written  years  after,  recalling  this  night  in 
a  hay-loft,  delightfully  simple  and  suggestive,  tells  of  the 
delights  of  his  hay-bed,  the  first  bed  of  any  sort  for  many 
a  long  month!  The  pleasure  of  the  sense  of  rest!  whilst 
overhead  the  stars  were  shining  in  the  frosty  air.  Be 
neath,  he  could  hear  the  horses  stirring  heavily,  and  he 
thought  of  the  sense  of  force  and  life  that  issued  from 
them.  They  were  of  use  in  the  world,  but  of  what  use 
was  he?  .  .  .  And  the  sharp  shining  stars,  they  were 
suns,  enormous  suns,  inhabited  perhaps  by  creatures  like 
horses,  with  small  things  like  rats  and  mice  hiding  in  the 
hay.  The  horses  did  not  know  that  there  were  a  hundred 
million  of  suns,  yet  they  were  superior  beings  worth  a 
great  deal  of  money,  much  more  than  he  was,  yet  he  knew 
that  there  were  hundreds  of  millions  of  suns  and  they  did 
not. 

68 


CINCINNATI 

"I  endeavoured  later,"  he  tells  Mrs.  Atkinson,  "to  go 
as  accountant  in  a  business  office,  but  it  was  soon  found 
that  I  was  incapable  of  filling  the  situation,  defective  in 
mathematical  capacity,  and  even  in  ordinary  calculation 
power.  I  was  entered  into  a  Telegraph  Office  as  Telegraph 
Messenger  Boy,  but  I  was  nineteen  and  the  other  boys  were 
young ;  I  looked  ridiculously  out  of  place  and  was  laughed 
at.  I  was  touchy — went  off  without  asking  for  my  wages. 
Enraged  friends  refused  to  do  anything  further  for  me. 
Boarding-houses  warned  me  out  of  doors.  At  last  I  be 
came  a  Boarding-house  servant,  lighted  fires,  shovelled 
coals,  etc.,  in  exchange  for  food  and  privilege  of  sleeping 
on  the  floor  of  the  smoking-room.  I  worked  thus  for  about 
one  and  a  half  years,  finding  time  to  read  and  write  stories. 
The  stories  were  published  in  cheap  Weekly  Papers,  long 
extinct;  but  I  was  never  paid  for  them.  I  tried  other  oc 
cupations  also — canvassing,  show-card  writing,  etc.  These 
brought  enough  to  buy  smoking  tobacco  and  second-hand 
clothes — nothing  more. ' ' 

It  is  typical  of  Hearn  that,  though  driven  to  such  straits, 
he  never  applied  to  Mr.  Cullinane,  to  whose  charge  he  had 
been  committed.  We  are  not  surprised  that  the  little  room 
at  the  back  of  Mr.  Watkin's  shop,  with  the  bed  of  paper 
shavings,  and  Mr.  Watkin's  frugal  meals,  yes,  even 
sleeping  in  dry-goods  boxes  in  a  grocer's  shed,  or  the 
shelter  of  a  disused  boiler  in  a  vacant  "lot,"  was  prefer 
able  to  the  acceptance  of  money  sent  through  the  inter 
vention  of  Henry  Molyneux  to  Henry  Molyneux's  brother- 
in-law. 

In  his  book,  "Concerning  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  1  Dr.  George 
Milbury  Gould  alludes  to  this  gentleman  in  the  following 
terms : — 

"There  is  still  living,  an  Irishman,  to  whom  Lafcadio 
was  sent  from  Ireland,  and  in  whose  care,  at  least  to  a  lim- 

i  Messrs.  Fisher  Unwin. 

69 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ited  extent,  the  boy  was  placed.  He  was  living  in  Cincin 
nati,  Ohio,  in  1870." 

"He  was  not  sure,"  says  Gould  in  his  account  of  an 
interview  with  Mr.  Cullinane,  "whether  Mrs.  Brenane  was 
really  Hearn's  grand-aunt;  the  fact  is,  he  declared  that  he 
knew  nothing,  and  no  one  knew  anything  true  of  Hearn's 
life.  Asked  why  the  lad  was  shipped  to  him,  he  replied, 
'I  do  not  know — I  do  not  even  know  whether  he  was  re 
lated  to  my  brother-in-law,  Molyneux,  or  not. '  '  ' 

From  these  statements  Gould  infers  that  the  boy  couldn't 
stop  in  any  school  to  which  he  was  sent,  that  he  was  ap 
parently  an  unwelcome  charge  upon  his  father's  Irish  re 
lations.  Every  one,  indeed,  who  had  anything  to  do  with 
him  made  haste  to  rid  themselves  of  the  obligation. 

The  friendship  with  Mr.  Watkin,  the  old  English  printer, 
was  destined  to  last  for  the  term  of  Hearn's  life. 

Many  of  Hearn's  friends  in  America  have  insinuated 
that  Mr.  Watkin  exaggerated  the  strength  of  the  tie  that 
bound  him  to  Lafcadio  Hearn;  but  Hearn's  letters  to  his 
sister  bear  out  all  the  statements  made  in  the  introduction 
to  the  volume  entitled  "Letters  from  the  Raven."  Even 
when  Hearn  succeeded  in  obtaining  occupation  elsewhere, 
he  would  return  to  Mr.  Watkin 's  office  during  leisure 
hours,  either  for  a  talk  with  his  friend,  or,  if  Mr.  Watkin 
was  out,  for  a  desultory  reading  of  the  books  in  the  "li 
brary,"  the  appellation  by  which  the  two  or  three  shelves 
containing  Mr.  Watkin 's  heterogeneous  collection  was  dig 
nified.  He  was  of  no  use  in  Mr.  Watkin 's  business  owing 
to  defective  eyesight,  but  when  he  returned  after  his  day's 
work  elsewhere,  literary,  political  and  religious  subjects 
were  discussed  and  quarrelled  over. 

As  was  now  and  afterwards  his  custom  with  his  friends, 
in  spite  of  daily  intercourse,  Hearn  kept  up  a  frequent 
correspondence  with  Mr.  Watkin.  This  correspondence  has 
been  edited  and  published  by  Mr.  Milton  Bronner  under 

70 


CINCINNATI 

the  title  of  "Letters  from  the  Raven."  Edgar  Allan  Poe 
had  died  in  1849,  but  the  influence  of  his  weird  and  strange 
genius  was  still  pre-eminent  in  America.  Early  in  their 
acquaintance  Hearn  established  the  habit  of  addressing 
Mr.  Watkin  as  "Old  Man"  or  "Dad,"  while  on  the  other 
hand  the  boy,  in  consequence  of  his  sallow  complexion, 
black  hair,  and  admiration  for  Poe's  works,  was  known  as 
the  "Kaven."  During  the  long  years  of  their  correspond 
ence,  a  drawing  of  a  raven  was  generally  placed  in  lieu 
of  signature  when  Lafcadio  wrote  to  Mr.  Watkin.  Many 
of  these  pen-and-ink  sketches  interspersed  with  other  illus 
trations  here  and  there  through  the  letters  show  considera 
ble  talent  for  drawing,  of  a  fantastic  sort,  that  might  have 
been  developed,  had  Hearn 's  eyesight  permitted,  and  had 
he  not  nourished  other  ambitions. 

Some  of  the  letters  are  simply  short  statements  left  on 
the  table  for  Mr.  Watkin 's  perusal  when  he  returned  home, 
or  a  few  lines  of  nonsense  scribbled  on  a  bit  of  paper  and 
pinned  on  a  door  of  the  office. 

Often  when  Hearn  was  offended  by  some  observation, 
or  a  reprimand  administered  by  the  older  man,  he  would 
"run  away  in  a  huff."  Mr.  Watkin,  who  was  genuinely 
attached  to  the  erratic  little  genius  and  understood  how  to 
deal  with  him,  would  simply  follow  him,  tell  him  not  to  be 
a  fool,  and  bring  him  back  again. 

In  the  fourth  autobiographical  fragment,  found  amongst 
Hearn 's  papers  after  his  death,  is  one  entitled  "Intuition." 
He  there  alludes  to  Watkin  as  "the  one  countryman  he 
knew  in  Cincinnati — a  man  who  had  preceded  him  into 
exile  by  nearly  forty  years." 

In  a  glass  case  at  the  entrance  to  a  photographer's  shop, 
Hearn  had  come  across  the  photograph  of  a  face,  the  first 
sight  of  which  had  left  him  breathless  with  wonder  and 
delight.  .  .  .  The  gaze  of  the  large  dark  eyes,  the  ac- 
quiline  curve  of  the  nose,  the  mouth  firm  but  fine — made 

71 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

him  think  of  a  falcon,  in  spite  of  the  delicacy  of  the  face. 
...  He  stood  looking  at  it,  and  the  more  he  looked, 
the  more  the  splendid  wonder  of  it  seemed  to  grow  like  a 
fascination.  But  who  was  she?  He  dared  not  ask  the 
owner  of  the  gallery.  To  his  old  friend  Watkin,  therefore, 
he  went  and  at  once  proposed  a  visit  to  the  photographer's. 
The  picture  was  as  much  a  puzzle  to  him  as  to  Hearn. 

For  long  years  the  incident  of  the  photograph  passed 
from  Hearn 's  memory  until,  in  a  Southern  city  hundreds 
of  miles  away,  he  suddenly  perceived,  in  a  glass  case  in  a 
druggist's  shop,  the  same  photograph. 

"Please  tell  me  whose  face  that  is,"  he  asked. 

"Is  it  possible  you  do  not  know?"  responded  the  drug 
gist.  "Surely  you  are  joking?" 

Hearn  answered  in  the  negative.  Then  the  man  told 
him — it  was  that  of  the  great  tragedienne,  Eachel. 

Cincinnati  is  separated  from  Kentucky  by  the  Ohio. 
It  is  there  but  a  narrow  river,  and  the  Cincinnati  folk 
were  wont  to  migrate  into  Kentucky  when  there  were  lec 
tures  on  spiritualism,  revivalist  meetings,  or  political  ha- 
ranguings  going  on.  Hearn  and  his  old  "Dad"  used  often 
to  make  the  journey  when  the  day's  work  was  done. 

Hearn  was  ever  fascinated  by  strange  and  unorthodox 
methods  of  thought.  We  can  imagine  him  poring  over 
Fourier's  "Harmonie  Universelle"  as  well  as  the  strange 
theories  set  forth  in  esoteric  Buddhism  with  its  astral 
visions  and  silent  voices,  even  accepting  the  materialisation 
of  tea-cups  and  portraits  and  the  transportation  of  ma 
terial  objects  through  space. 

These  were  not  the  only  expeditions  they  made  together. 
When,  later,  Hearn  was  on  the  staff  of  the  Enquirer  as 
night  reporter,  his  "Dad"  often  accompanied  him  on  his 
night  prowls  along  the  "levee,"  as  the  water  edge  is  called 
on  the  river  towns  of  the  Mississippi  valley. 

72 


CINCINNATI 

At  the  time  of  Hearn 's  death  in  1904  a  member  of  the 
Enquirer  staff  visited  Mr.  Henry  Watkin,  who  was  then 
living  in  the  "Old  Men's  Home"  (he  died  a  few  months 
ago),  a  well-known  institution  in  Cincinnati  where  busi 
ness  people  of  small  means  spend  their  declining  years. 
An  account  of  this  visit  was  printed  in  the  newspaper  on 
October  2nd.  The  writer  described  the  old  bureau  in  Wat- 
kin's  room  with  its  many  pigeon-holes,  holding  gems  more 
dear  to  the  old  man  than  all  "the  jewels  of  Tual" — the 
letters  of  Lafcadio  Hearn.  To  it  the  old  gentleman  tot 
tered  when  the  reporter  asked  for  a  glimpse  of  the  precious 
writings,  and  as  he  balanced  two  packages,  yellow  with 
age,  in  his  hand,  he  told,  in  a  voice  heavy  with  emotion, 
how  he  first  met  Hearn  accidentally,  and  how  their  friend 
ship  ripened  day  after  day  and  grew  into  full  fruition  with 
the  years. 

"I  always  called  him  'The  Kaven,'  "  said  Watkin,  "be 
cause  his  gloomy  views,  his  morbid  thoughts  and  his  love 
for  the  weird  and  uncanny  reminded  me  of  Poe  at  his 
best — or  worst,  as  you  might  call  it;  only,  in  my  opinion, 
Hearn 's  was  the  greater  mind.  Sometimes  he  came  to  my 
place  when  I  was  out  and  then  he  left  a  card  with  the  pic 
ture  of  a  raven  varied  according  to  his  whim,  and  I  could 
tell  from  it  the  humour  he  was  in  when  he  sketched  it. ' ' 

Mr.  Watkin  was  then  eighty-six  years  of  age,  and  de 
pendence  can  hardly  be  placed  on  his  memories  of  nearly 
fifty  years  before.  One  of  his  statements,  that  Hearn  had 
come,  in  company  with  a  Mr.  McDermott,  to  see  him 
twenty-four  hours  after  he  had  been  in  Cincinnati,  cannot 
be  quite  accurate,  because  of  Hearn 's  own  account  to  his  sis 
ter  of  having  spent  nights  in  the  streets  of  Cincinnati,  of 
his  various  adventures  after  his  arrival,  of  his  having 
worked  as  type-setter  and  proof-reader  for  the  Robert 
Clarke  Co.,  before  tfeeldng  employment  at  Mr.  Watkin 's 
office. 

73 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

It  was  while  he  was  sleeping  on  the  bed  of  paper  shav 
ings  behind  Mr.  Watkin's  shop  that  he  acted  as  private 
secretary  to  Thomas  Vickers,  librarian  in  the  public  library 
at  Cincinnati.  He  mentions  Thomas  Vickers  at  various 
times  in  his  letters  to  Krehbiel,  and  refers  to  rare  books 
on  music  and  copies  of  classical  works  to  be  found  at  the 
library. 

During  all  this  period,  wandering  from  place  to  place, 
endeavouring  to  find  employment  of  any  kind,  the  boy's 
underlying  ambition  was  to  obtain  a  position  on  the  staff 
of  one  of  the  large  daily  newspapers,  and  thus  work  his 
way  to  a  competency  that  would  enable  him  to  devote  him 
self  to  literary  work  of  his  own. 

"I  believe  he  would  have  signed  his  soul  away  to  the 
devil,"  one  of  his  colleagues  says,  "to  get  on  terms  of 
recognition  with  either  Colonel  John  Cockerill,  then  man 
aging  editor  of  the  Cincinnati  Enquirer,  or  Mr.  Henderson, 
the  city  editor  of  the  Commercial."  Though  Hearn  may 
not  have  signed  his  soul  to  the  devil,  he  certainly  sold  his 
genius  to  ignoble  uses  when  he  wrote  his  well-known  descrip 
tion  of  the  tan-yard  murder.  His  ambition  however 
was  gratified.  A  reporter  who  could  thus  cater  to  the 
public  greed  for  horrors  was  an  asset  to  the  Cincinnati 
press. 

We  have  an  account,  given  by  John  Cockerill,  twenty 
years  later,  of  Hearn 's  first  visit  to  the  Enquirer: — 

* '  One  day  there  came  to  the  office  a  quaint,  dark-skinned 
little  fellow,  strangely  diffident,  wearing  glasses  of  great 
magnifying  power  and  bearing  with  him  evidence  that 
Fortune  and  he  were  scarce  on  nodding  terms. 

"When  admitted,  in  a  soft,  shrinking  voice  he  asked  if 
I  ever  paid  for  outside  contributions.  I  informed  him  that 
I  was  somewhat  restricted  in  the  matter  of  expenditures, 
but  that  I  would  give  consideration  to  what  he  had  to 
offer.  He  drew  from  under  his  coat  a  manuscript,  and 

74 


CINCINNATI 

tremblingly  laid  it  upon  my  table.  Then  he  stole  away 
like  a  distorted  brownie,  leaving  behind  him  an  impression 
that  was  uncanny  and  indescribable. 

"Later  in  the  day  I  looked  over  the  contribution  which 
he  had  left.  I  was  astonished  to  find  it  charmingly  writ 
ten.  .  .  . 

"From  that  time  forward  he  sat  in  the  corner  of  my 
room  and  wrote  special  articles  for  the  Sunday  Edition 
as  thoroughly  excellent  as  anything  that  appeared  in  the 
magazines  of  those  days.  I  have  known  him  to  have  twelve 
and  fifteen  columns  of  this  matter  in  a  single  issue  of  the 
paper.  He  was  delighted  to  work,  and  I  was  pleased  to 
have  his  work,  for  his  style  was  beautiful  and  the  tone 
he  imparted  to  the  newspaper  was  considerable.  Hour 
after  hour  he  would  sit  at  his  table,  his  prominent  eyes 
resting  as  close  to  the  paper  as  his  nose  would  permit, 
scratching  away  with  beaver-like  diligence  and  giving  me 
no  more  annoyance  than  a  bronze  ornament.  His  eyes 
troubled  him  greatly  in  those  days,  one  was  bulbous,  and 
protruded  farther  than  the  other.  He  was  as  sensitive  as 
a  flower.  An  unkind  word  from  anybody  was  as  serious  to 
him  as  a  cut  from  a  whiplash,  but  I  do  not  believe  he  was 
in  any  sense  resentful.  .  .  .  He  was  poetic,  and  his 
whole  nature  seemed  attuned  to  the  beautiful,  and  he  wrote 
beautifully  of  things  which  were  neither  wholesome  nor 
inspiring.  He  came  to  be  in  time  a  member  of  the  city 
staff  at  a  fair  compensation,  and  it  was  then  that  his 
descriptive  powers  developed.  He  loved  to  write  of 
things  in  humble  life.  He  prowled  about  the  dark  cor 
ners  of  the  city,  and  from  gruesome  places  he  dug  out 
charming  idyllic  stories.  The  negro  stevedores  on  the 
steamboat-landings  fascinated  him.  He  wrote  of  their 
songs,  their  imitations,  their  uncouth  ways,  and  he 
found  picturesqueness  in  their  rags,  poetry  in  their  juba 
dances/' 

75 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

A  journalistic  feat  still  remembered  in  Cincinnati  for  its 
daring  was  Hearn  's  ascent  of  the  spire  of  the  cathedral  on 
the  back  of  a  famous  steeplejack,  for  the  purpose  of  writing 
an  account  of  the  view  of  the  city  from  that  exalted  posi 
tion. 

Mr.  Edmund  Henderson  gives  an  account  of  the  ac 
complishment  of  the  performance.  Hearn  was  told  of  the 
peril  of  the  thing  but  he  would  not  listen.  Despite  his 
physique  he  was  as  courageous  as  a  lion,  and  there  was 
no  assignment  of  peril  that  he  would  not  bid  for  avidly. 
"Before  the  climb  began  the  editor  handed  him  a  field 
glass  with  the  suggestion  that  he  might  find  it  useful. 
Hearn,  however,  quietly  handed  it  back  with  the  remark 
'perhaps  I  had  better  not  take  it;  something  might  happen.' 
Amidst  the  cheers  of  the  crowd  beneath  the  foolhardy  pair 
accomplished  their  climb.  Hearn  came  back  to  the  office 
and  wrote  two  columns  describing  his  sensations,  and  the 
wonders  of  the  view  he  had  obtained  from  the  steeple  top, 
though  he  was  so  near-sighted  he  could  not  have  seen  five 
feet  beyond  the  tip  of  his  nose." 

Henceforth  Hearn  accepted  the  "night  stations "  on  the 
staff  of  the  paper.  Amongst  the  policemen  of  Cincin 
nati,  who  accompanied  him  in  his  wanderings,  he  was  a 
prime  favourite,  known  as  "  0  'Hearn ' '  both  to  them  and  to 
his  fellow-reporters. 

After  hours  of  exposure,  weary  and  hungry,  he  might 
be  seen  sitting  in  the  deserted  newspaper  office  until  the 
small  hours  of  the  morning,  under  a  miserable  gas-jet  burn 
ing  like  a  "mere  tooth  of  flame  in  its  wire  muzzle,"  his  nose 
close  to  paper  and  book,  working  at  translations  from  Theo- 
phile  Gautier,  Gustave  Flaubert,  and  Baudelaire. 

Being  a  meridional,  he  said,  he  felt  rather  with  the 
Latin  race  than  the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  he  hoped  with  time 
and  study,  to  be  able  to  create  something  different  from  the 
stone-grey;  and.  somewhat  chilly  style  of  the  latter-day 

76 


CINCINNATI 

English  and  American  romance.  Although  later  he  modi 
fied  considerably  his  opinion  with  regard  to  the  moral  ten 
dency  of  their  art,  he  ever  retained  the  same  admiration  for 
the  artistic  completeness  and  finish  of  the  French  Impres 
sionist  School;  their  instinct  for  the  right  phrase,  their 
deftness  in  setting  it  precisely  in  the  right  position,  the 
strength  that  came  from  reserve,  and  the  ease  due  to 
vividly-realised  themes  and  objects,  all  these  elements  com 
bined  conferred  a  particular  charm  on  their  method  of  ex 
pression  to  a  stylist  of  Hearn's  quality. 

Not  being  able  to  find  a  publisher  for  Gautier's  "  Ava 
tar/'  his  first  translation  from  the  French,  he  subjected 
it  "to  the  holy  purification  of  fire."  He  next  attempted 
a  portion  of  some  of  Gautier's  tales,  included  under  the 
title  of  "One  of  Cleopatra's  Nights";  then  he  undertook 
the  arduous  task  of  translating  Flaubert's  "La  Tentation 
de  Saint  Antoine."  "It  is  astonishing  what  system  will 
accomplish.  If  a  man  cannot  spare  an  hour  a  day  he  can 
certainly  spare  a  half-hour.  I  translated  "La  Tentation" 
by  this  method,  never  allowing  a  day  to  pass  without  trans 
lating  a  page  or  two.  The  work  is  audacious  in  parts ;  but 
I  think  nothing  ought  to  be  suppressed." 

As  well  attempt,  however,  to  gain  a  hearing  for  a  free- 
thinking  speech  at  Exeter  Hall  as  to  obtain  readers  for 
Gautier's  or  Flaubert's  productions  amidst  a  society  nour 
ished  on  Emerson,  Longfellow,  and  Thoreau!  Unorthodox 
in  religious  opinion  some  of  the  American  prophets  and 
poets  might  be,  but  rigid  and  narrow  as  a  company  of  Pur 
itans  in  the  matter  of  social  morality. 

When  we  know  that  about  this  time  Bret  Harte's  "Luck 
of  Roaring  Camp"  was  refused  admittance  to  the  pages 
of  a  San  Francisco  magazine  as  likely  to  shock  the  senti 
ments  of  its  readers  and  injure  the  circulation  of  the  peri 
odical  in  consequence  of  the  morals  of  the  mother  of  the 
Luck,  we  are  not  surprised  that  Hearn's  attempt  to  in- 

77 


LAFQ^DIO  HEARN 

troduce  the  American  public  to  the  masterpieces  of  the 
French  Impressionist  School  was  foredoomed  to  failure. 
There  is  a  certain  naive,  determined  defiance  of  conven 
tion  in  his  insistence  on  gaining  admiration  both  from 
his  friends  and  the  public  for  productions  that  were  really 
quite  unsuited  to  general  circulation  at  that  time  in  Amer 
ica.  We  find  him,  for  instance,  recommending  the  pe 
rusal  of  "Mdlle.  de  Maupin"  to  a  clergyman  of  the  Estab 
lished  Church  and  sending  a  copy  of  Gautier's  poems  to 
Miss  Bisland  in  New  Orleans. 

' 1 1  shall  stick, ' '  he  says,  * '  to  my  pedestal  of  faith  in  lit 
erary  possibilities  like  an  Egyptian  Colossus  with  a  broken 
nose,  seated  solemnly  in  the  gloom  of  my  own  originality, 
seeking  no  reward  save  the  satisfaction  of  creating  some 
thing  beautiful ;  but  this  is  worth  working  for. ' ' 

It  is  a  noteworthy  fact  and  one  that  may  be  mentioned 
here  that,  in  spite  of  his  extraordinary  mastery  of  the  sub 
tleties  of  the  French  language,  he  always  spoke  French  with 
an  atrociously  bad  accent.  "He  had  a  very  bad  ear,"  his 
friend,  Henry  Krehbiel,  tells  us  in  his  article  on  "Hearn 
and  Folk  Music,"  "organically  incapable  of  humming  the 
simplest  tune ;  he  could  not  even  sing  the  scale,  a  thing  that 
most  people  do  naturally." 

From  these  Cincinnati  days  dates  Hearn's  hatred  of  the 
drudgery  of  journalism,  "a  really  nefarious  trade,"  he 
declared  later ;  ' '  it  dwarfs,  stifles  and  emasculates  thought 
and  style.  .  .  .  The  journalist  of  to-day  is  obliged  to 
hold  himself  in  readiness  to  serve  any  cause.  ...  If 
he  can  enrich  himself  quickly  and  acquire  comparative  in 
dependence,  then,  indeed,  he  is  able  to  utter  his  heart's 
sentiments  and  indulge  his  tastes.  .  .  ." 

Amongst  his  colleagues  on  the  staff  of  the  Enquirer 
Hearn  was  not  popular.  He  was  looked  upon  as  what 
Eton  boys  call  a  "sap";  his  fussiness  about  punctuation 
and  style  soon  earned  for  him  the  sobriquet  of  * '  Old  Semi- 

78 


CINCINNATI 

Colon."  This  meticulous  precision  on  the  subject  of  punc 
tuation  and  the  value  of  words  remained  a  passion  with 
him  all  his  life.  He  used  to  declare  he  felt  about  it  as  a 
painter  would  feel  about  the  painting  of  his  picture.  He 
told  his  friend,  Tunison,  that  the  word  "gray"  if  spelt 
"grey"  gave  him  quite  a  different  colour  sensation. 

We  remember  his  delightful  outburst  in  a  letter  to 
Chamberlain,  that  has  been  so  often  quoted.  "For  me 
words  have  colour,  form,  character:  they  have  faces,  ports, 
manners,  gesticulations; — they  have  moods,  humours,  ec 
centricities: — they  have  tints,  tones,  personalities,"  etc., 
etc. 

Though  Hearn  did  not  get  on  with  others  of  the  news 
paper  staff,  he  formed  ties  of  intimacy  with  several  choice 
spirits  then  moving  in  the  best  literary  circles  of  Cincinnati 
and  now  well  known  in  the  literary  life  of  the  United 
States. 

Henry  Krehbiel,  recognised  in  England  and  America  as 
an  eminent  music  lecturer  and  critic,  was  one  of  his  most 
intimate  friends.  Joseph  Tunison  was  another;  he  after 
wards  became  editor  of  the  Dayton  Journal,  and,  as  well 
as  Krehbiel,  wrote  sympathetically  of  the  little  Irishman 
after  his  death,  expressing  indignation  at  the  scurrilous 
attacks  made  upon  his  reputation  by  several  papers  in  the 
United  States.  "He  was  a  wonderfully  attractive  person 
ality,  full  of  quaint  learning,  and  a  certain  unworldly 
wisdom.  He  had  a  fashion  of  dropping  his  friends  one 
by  one;  or  of  letting  them  drop  him,  which  comes  to  the 
same  thing;  whether  indifference  or  suspicion  was  at  the 
bottom  of  this  habit  it  would  be  hard  to  say.  But  he  never 
spoke  ill  of  them  afterwards.  It  was  not  his  way  to  tell 
much  about  himself ;  and  what  he  did  say  was  let  out  as  if 
by  accident  in  the  course  of  conversation  on  other  topics. 
.  .  .  It  was  impossible  to  be  long  in  his  company  with-/ 
out  learning  that  his  early  years  had  been  years  of  bitter- f 

79 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ness.  His  reminiscences  of  childhood  included  not  only 
his  dark-haired,  dark-eyed  mother,  but  also  a  beautiful 
blonde  lady,  who  had  somehow  turned  his  happiness  to 
misery." 


80 


CHAPTER  VII 
VAGABONDAGE 

"Now  for  jet  black,  the  smooth,  velvety,  black  skin  that  remains 
cold  as  a  lizard  under  the  tropical  sun.  It  seems  to  me  extremely 
beautiful !  If  it  is  beautiful  in  art,  why  should  it  not  be  beautiful  in 
nature?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is,  and  has  been  so  acknowledged, 
even  by  the  most  prejudiced  slave-owning  races.  Either  Stanley, 
or  Livingstone  perhaps,  told  the  world  that  after  long  living  in 
Africa,  the  sight  of  white  faces  produced  something  like  fear  (and 
the  evil  spirits  of  Africa  are  white).  .  .  .  You  remember  the 
Romans  lost  their  first  battles  with  the  North  through  sheer  fear 
.  .  .  the  fairer,  the  weirder  .  .  .  the  more  terrible.  Beauty 
there  is  in  the  North,  of  its  kind.  But  it  is  not,  surely,  comparable 
with  the  wonderful  beauty  of  colour  in  other  races."  1 

As  to  Hearn's  more  intimate  life  at  this  time  there  are 
many  contradictory  accounts.  Published  facts  and  the  no 
toriety  of  legal  proceedings,  however,  are  stubborn  things, 
and  generally  manage  to  work  their  way  through  any 
deposit  of  inaccurate  scandal  or  imaginative  rumour.  At 
all  hazards  the  truth  must  be  set  forth ;  otherwise  how  em 
phasise  the  redemption  of  this  hapless  genius  by  discipline 
and  self-control  out  of  the  depths  into  which  at  this  time 
he  fell? 

The  episode  in  Hearn's  life  in  Cincinnati,  with  the  col 
oured  woman,  "Althea  Foley,"  remains  one  of  those  ob 
scure  psychological  mysteries,  which,  however  distasteful, 
has  to  be  accepted  as  a  component  part  of  his  unbalanced 
mental  equipment. 

i  "The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  Messrs.  Houghton, 
Mifflin  &  Co. 

81 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

On  sifting  all  available  evidence,  there  is  no  doubt  that 
while  doing  reporter's  work  for  the  Enquirer  he  fell  under 
the  "  Shadow  of  the  Ethiopian. " 

In  treating  of  Hearn's  vagaries  it  is  well  to  remember 
that  his  brain  was  abnormal  by  inheritance,  and  at  this 
time  was  still  further  thrown  off  its  balance  by  privation, 
injustice,  and  unhappiness.  All  through  the  course  of  his 
life  there  was  failure  of  straight  vision  and  mental  vigour 
when  he  was  going  through  a  period  of  difficulty  and  strug 
gle. 

"He  may  have  been  a  genius  in  his  line,"  his  brother 
writes  to  Mrs.  Atkinson,  referring  to  Lafcadio,  "but  genius 
is  akin  to  madness,  and  I  do  really  think  that  dark,  pas 
sionate  Greek  mother 's  blood  had  a  taint  in  it.  For  me, 
instead  of  nobler  aspirations  and  thoughts,  it  begat  ex 
tremes  of  hate  and  love — a  shrinking  and  sensitive  morbid 
nature.  Whatever  of  the  man  I  have  in  me  comes  from 
our  common  father.  If  I  had  been  as  you  were,  a  child  of 
father's  second  wife,  I  could  have  told  a  different  story 
of  my  life.  ...  It  was  the  Eastern  taint  in  the  blood 
that  took  Lafcadio  to  Japan  and  kept  him  there.  His 
low  vitality  and  lack  of  nerve  force  hampered  him  in  the 
battle  of  life,  as  it  has  me.  If  we  had  the  good  old  Celtic 
and  Saxon  blood  in  us,  it  would  have  been  better  for  those 
dependent  on  us." 

The  girl  was  servant  in  the  cheap  boarding-house  where 
he  lodged.  Hearn,  then  a  struggling  almost  destitute  news 
paper  writer,  used  to  return  from  work  in  the  dead  of  win 
ter  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning.  She  was  a  hand 
some,  kind-hearted  mulatto  girl,  who  kept  his  meals  warm 
and  allowed  him  to  sit  by  her  fire  when  wet  and  chilled. 
There  was  much  in  the  circumstances  surrounding  her  to 
set  alight  that  spark  of  pity  and  compassion,  one  of  Hearn's 
notable  qualities.  Born  a  slave  near  Marysville,  Kentucky, 
about  sixty  miles  from  Cincinnati,  in  1863  President  Lin- 

82 


VAGABONDAGE 

coin's  Proclamation  gave  her  her  freedom,  and  she  drifted 
into  the  city,  a  waif,  like  Hearn  himself. 

In  consequence  of  hard  work  and  exposure  he  fell  seri 
ously  ill.  She  saved  him  almost  from  death,  and  while 
nursing  him  back  to  health  they  talked  much  of  her  early 
days  and  years  of  slavery. 

His  quixotic  idea  of  legalising  his  connection  with  her 
surprised  no  one  so  much  as  the  girl  herself.  It  com 
pletely  turned  her  head ;  she  gave  herself  airs,  became  over 
bearing  and  quarrelsome,  and  Hearn  found  himself 
obliged  to  leave  Cincinnati  to  escape  from  an  impossible 
position. 

After  his  death  the  woman  made  a  claim  upon  his  estate, 
and  tried  to  assert  her  right  in  the  American  courts  to 
the  royalties  on  his  books.  The  Enquirer  had  articles 
running  through  several  issues  in  1906  on  the  claim 
of  Althea  Foley,  "who  sued  to  secure  Hearn 's  estate 
after  his  death."  The  courts  decided  against  her  on 
the  ground  that  the  laws  of  Ohio,  in  which  state  they  both 
resided,  did  not  recognise  marriage  between  races.  But, 
the  court  added,  "there  was  no  doubt  he  had  gone 
through  the  ceremony  of  marriage  with  the  woman 
Althea  Foley,  a  mulatto,  or,  as  she  preferred  to  call  herself, 
a  Creole. " 

It  made  Hearn  very  indigant,  later,  when  some  one 
criticising  his  work  called  him  a  "decadent."  Certainly 
at  this  time  in  Cincinnati  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
defend  him  from  the  charge.  The  school  of  French  writers 
who  have  been  dubbed  "decadents"  and  who  exercised  sd 
great  an  influence  on  him  were  infected  with  a  strange  parJ 
tiality  for  alien  races  and  coloured  women.  Exotic  odd-f 
ness  and  strangeness,  primitive  impulses,  as  displayed  inv 
the  quest  of  strange  tongues  and  admiration  of  strange . 
people,  were  a  vital  part  of  the  impressionist  creed,  con-  * 
stituted,  indeed,  one  of  the  most  displeasing  manifestations 

83 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

of  their  unwholesome  opinions  and  fancies.  Baudelaire 
boldly  declared  his  preference  for  the  women  of  black  races. 
Most  of  Pierre  Loti's  earlier  novels  were  but  the  histories 
of  love  affairs  with  women  of  ' '  dusky  races, ' '  either  Eastern 
or  Polynesian. 

Hearn,  as  we  have  said  before,  was  an  exemplification 
of  the  theory  of  heredity.  The  fancy  for  mulattos,  Creoles 
and  orientals,  which  he  displayed  all  his  life,  is  most  likely 
to  be  accounted  for  as  an  inheritance  from  his  Arabian  and 
oriental  ancestors  on  his  mother's  side.  He  but  took  up 
the  dropped  threads  of  his  barbaric  ancestry. 

All  his  life  he  preferred  to  mix  in  the  outer  confines  of 
society;  the  " levee"  at  Cincinnati;  the  lower  Creoles  and 
mixed  races  at  New  Orleans;  fishermen,  gardeners,  peas 
ants,  were  chosen  by  preference  as  companions  in  Japan. 
He  railed  against  civilisation.  "The  so-called  improve 
ments  in  civilisation  have  apparently  resulted  in  making 
it  impossible  to  see,  hear,  or  find  anything  out.  You  are 
improving  yourself  out  of  the  natural  world.  I  want  to 
get  back  amongst  the  monkeys  and  the  parrots,  under  a 
violet  sky,  among  green  peaks,  and  an  eternally  lilac  and 
luke-warm  sea — where  clothing  is  superfluous  and  reading 
too  much  of  an  exertion.  .  .  .  Civilisation  is  a  hideous 
thing.  Blessed  is  savagery!  Surely  a  palm  two  hundred 
feet  high  is  a  finer  thing  in  the  natural  order  than  seventy 
times  seven  New  Yorks. ' '  * 

Hearn  was  a  born  rebel,  and  every  incident  of  his  life 
hitherto  had  goaded  him  into  further  rebellion  against  all 
constituted  authority.  That  a  race  should  be  trampled 
upon  by  one  regarding  itself  as  superior  was  a  state  of 
things  that  he  could  not  contemplate  without  a  protest, 
and  by  his  action  he  protested  in  the  most  emphatic  manner 
possible.  He  never  took  into  consideration  whether  it  was 

i  "The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co. 

84 


VAGABONDAGE 

wise  to  do  so  or  not.  Later,  when  the  turbulent  spirit  of 
youth  had  settled  down  to  accept  the  discipline  of  social 
laws  and  conventions,  he  took  a  very  different  view  of  the 
racial  question  in  the  United  States  and  confessed  the 
want  of  comprehension  he  had  displayed  on  the  subject. 
Writing  years  afterwards  to  a  pupil  in  Japan,  he  alludes 
to  the  unfortunate  incident  in  Cincinnati.  He  resolved 
to  take  the  part  of  some  people  who  were  looked  down  upon 
in  the  place  where  he  lived.  He  thought  that  those  who 
looked  down  upon  them  were  morally  wrong,  so  he  went 
over  to  their  side.  Then  the  rest  of  the  people  stopped 
speaking  to  him,  and  he  hated  them.  But  he  was  then 
too  young  to  understand.  The  trouble  was  really  caused 
by  moral  questions  far  larger  than  those  he  had  been 
arguing  about. 

Hearn  was  certainly  correct  in  thinking  that,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  people  amongst  whom  he  was  living, 
an  attempt  to  legalise  a  union  with  a  coloured  woman  was 
an  unpardonable  lapse  from  social  law.  Not  only  then, 
but  for  years  afterwards,  public  opinion  was  strongly  in 
fluenced  against  him  in  consequence  of  this  lamentable  in 
cident.  Even  at  the  time  of  his  death,  in  1904,  a  perfect 
host  of  statements  and  distorted  legends  exaggerating  all 
his  lapses  from  conventional  standards  were  raked  up. 
Amongst  other  accusations,  they  declared  that  when  in 
New  Orleans  he  was  the  favoured  admirer  of  Marie  Levaux, 
known  as  ''The  Voodoo  Queen." 

Page  Baker,  the  editor  of  the  Times  Democrat  immedi 
ately  came  forward  to  defend  Hearn  from  the  charge. 
Referring  to  the  Voodoo  Queen,  the  article  says:  "All 
this  wonderful  tale  is  based  upon  the  fact  that  Hearn, 
like  every  other  newspaper  man  in  New  Orleans  who 
thought  there  might  be  a  story  in  it,  entered  into  com 
munication  with  a  negro  woman,  who  called  herself 
'Marie  Levaux,'  and  pretended,  falsely  as  was  after- 

85 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ward  shown,  to  know  something  of  the  mysteries  of 
Voodooism. 

"  Whether  as  reporter,  editor,  or  author,  Hearn  insisted 
on  investigating  for  himself  what  he  wrote  about ;  but  what 
the  Sun  states  is  not  only  untrue,  but  would  have  been 
impossible  in  a  Southern  city  like  New  Orleans,  where  the 
colour  line  is  so  strictly  drawn.  If  Hearn  had  been  the 
man  the  Sun  says  he  was,  he  could  not  have  held  the  posi 
tion  he  did  a  week,  much  less  the  long  years  he  remained 
in  this  city.  .  .  .  He  certainly  was  not  conventional 
in  the  order  of  his  life  any  more  than  he  was  in  the  product 
of  his  brain.  For  this,  the  man  being  now  dead  and 
silent,  the  conventional  takes  the  familiar  revenge  upon 
him." 

In  1875,  as  far  as  we  can  make  out,  Hearn  left  the  En 
quirer,  and  in  the  latter  part  of  1876  was  on  the  staff  of 
the  Commercial,  but  he  had  too  seriously  wounded  the  sus 
ceptibilities  of  society  in  Cincinnati  to  make  existence  any 
longer  comfortable,  or,  indeed,  possible.  The  uncongenial 
climate,  also,  of  Ohio  did  not  suit  his  delicate  constitution. 
He  longed  to  get  away. 

Dreams  had  come  to  him  of  the  strange  Franco-Spanish 
city,  the  Great  South  Gate,  lying  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi.  These  dreams  were  evoked  by  reading  one 
of  Cable 's  stories.  When  he  first  viewed  New  Orleans  from 
the  deck  of  the  steamboat  that  had  carried  him  from  grey 
north-western  mists  into  the  tepid  and  orange-scented  air  of 
the  South,  his  impression  of  the  city,  drowsing  under  the 
violet  and  gold  of  a  November  morning,  were  oddly  con 
nected  with  Jean  ah-Poquelin.  Even  before  he  had  left 
the  steamboat  his  imagination  had  flown  beyond  the  wilder 
ness  of  cotton  bales,  the  sierra-shaped  roofs  of  the  sugar 
sheds,  to  wander  in  search  of  the  old  slave-trader's  man 
sion. 

A  letter  to  his  half-sister,  Mrs.  Atkinson,  effectually  dis- 

86 


VAGABONDAGE 

poses  of  the  statement  that  he  left  Cincinnati  in  consequence 
of  any  difference  of  opinion  with  the  editor  of  the  Com 
mercial.  In  fact,  money  for  the  journey  was  given  to  him 
as  well  as  a  roving  commission  for  letters  from  Louisiana 
to  be  contributed  to  the  columns  of  the  newspaper. 


87 


CHAPTER  VIII 
MEMPHIS 

"So  I  wait  for  the  poet's  Pentecost  —  the  inspiration  of  Nature  — 
the  descent  of  the  Tongues  of  Fire.  And  I  think  they  will  come 
when  the  wild  skies  brighten,  and  the  sun  of  the  Mexican  Gulf  re 
appears  for  his  worshippers — with  hymns  of  wind  and  sea,  and  the 
prayers  of  birds.  When  one  becomes  bathed  in  this  azure  and  gold 
air — saturated  with  the  perfume  of  the  sea,  he  can't  help  writing 
something.  And  he  cannot  help  feeling  a  new  sense  of  being.  The 
Soul  of  the  Sea  mingles  with  his  own,  is  breathed  into  him:  the 
Spirit  that  moveth  over  the  deep  is  the  Creator  indeed — vivifying, 
illuminating,  strengthening.  1  really  feel  his  Religion — the  sense  of 
awe  that  comes  to  one  in  some  great  silent  temple.  You  would  feel 
it  too  under  this  eternal  vault  of  blue,  when  the  weird  old  Sea  is 
touching  the  keys  of  his  mighty  organ  .  .  ."  1 

IT  was  in  the  autumn  of  1877  that  Lafcadio  Hearn,  with 
forty  dollars  in  his  pocket  and  a  head  full  of  dreams, 
started  for  Memphis  on  his  way  to  New  Orleans.  Mr.  Hal- 
stead  and  Mr.  Edward  Henderson,  editors  of  the  Commer 
cial,  and  his  old  friend,  Mr.  Watkin,  were  at  the  little 
Miami  depot  to  bid  him  God  speed. 

Memphis  is  situated  at  the  confluence  of  the  Mississippi 
and  Ohio  rivers.  Hearn  had  to  await  the  steamboat  there 
on  its  return  journey  from  New  Orleans.  In  those  days 
punctuality  was  not  rigidly  enforced,  and  very  often  the 
arrival  of  the  steamer  necessitated  a  wait  of  several  days 
at  Memphis.  The  only  person  with  whom  Hearn  kept  up 
communication  in  the  northern  city  he  had  left  was  Henry 

i  Letter  to  Dr.  Matas  in  Dr.  Gould's  book,  "Concerning  Lafcadio 
Hearn,"  Messrs.  Fisher  Unwin. 

88 


MEMPHIS 

Watkin.  Hieroglyphs  of  ravens,  tombstones,  and  crescent 
moons  illustrate  the  text.  It  is  in  moments  of  loneliness 
and  depression,  such  as  these  days  at  Memphis,  that  the 
real  Hearn  shows  himself.  He  becomes  now  and  then 
almost  defiantly  frank  in  his  self-revelations  and  confes 
sions. 

On  October  28  he  dispatched  a  card  bearing  two  draw 
ings  of  a  raven;  "In  a  dilemma  at  Memphis"  was  the  in 
scription  under  a  raven  scratching  its  head  with  a  claw. 
The  other  is  merely  labelled  "Remorseful."  His  finances 
had,  apparently,  run  out,  and  in  spite  of  paying  two  dol 
lars  a  day  for  his  accommodations,  he,  according  to  his  own 
account,  had  to  lodge  in  a  tumble-down,  dirty,  poverty- 
stricken  hotel. 

I  have  already  referred  to  Hearn 's  choice  of  the  name 
of  "Ozias  Midwinter,"  as  signature  to  his  series  of  letters 
contributed  at  this  time  to  the  Commercial.  These  letters, 
his  first  professional  work,  except  "The  Tan-yard  Mur 
der"  and  "The  Ascent  of  the  Spire  of  St.  Peters,"  rescued 
from  destruction,  show  how  long  hours  of  unflagging  in 
dustry  spent  on  achieving  a  finished  style  were  at  last  to 
bear  fruit,  giving  them  that  extraordinary  variety,  ease, 
and  picturesqueness  which,  combined  with  originality  of 
thought  and  keenness  of  judgment,  placed  him  ultimately 
in  the  forefront  of  the  writers  of  the  day. 

A  postcard,  written  to  Mr.  Watkin  on  November  15, 
1877,  enabled  the  identification  in  the  files  of  the  Com 
mercial  of  these  "Midwinter"  letters. 

He  approached  the  Memphis  of  the  Mississippi,  he  said, 
dreaming  of  the  Memphis  of  the  Nile,  and  found  but  ten- 
antless  warehouses  with  shattered  windows,  poverty-stricken 
hotels  vainly  striving  to  keep  up  appearances.  .  .  . 
The  city's  life,  he  said,  seemed  to  have  contracted  about 
its  heart,  leaving  the  greater  portion  of  its  body  paralysed. 
It  gave  him  the  impression  of  a  place  that  had  been 

89 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

stricken  by  some  great  misfortune  beyond  the  hope  of 
recovery.  When  rain  and  white  fogs  came,  the  melancholy 
of  Memphis  became  absolutely  Stygian;  all  things  wooden 
uttered  strange  groans  and  crackling  sounds;  all  things 
of  stone  or  of  stucco  sweated  as  if  in  the  agony  of  dissolu 
tion,  and  beyond  the  cloudy  brow  of  the  bluffs  the  Mis 
sissippi  flowed  a  Styx  flood,  with  pale  mists  lingering  like 
shades  upon  its  banks. 

'  *  Elagabalus,  wishing  to  obtain  some  idea  of  the  vastness 
of  Imperial  Rome,  ordered  all  the  cobwebs  in  the  city  to 
be  collected  together  and  heaped  before  him.  Estimated 
by  such  a  method,  the  size  of  Memphis  would  appear  vast 
enough  to  astonish  even  Elagabalus. " 

Of  Forrest,  the  great  Confederate  leader,  whose  funeral 
took  place  at  Memphis  while  Hearn  was  there,  he  gives 
a  vivid  description.  "Rough,  rugged,  desperate,  uncul 
tured.  His  character  fitted  him  rather  for  the  life  of  the 
border  and  the  planter.  He  was  by  nature  a  typical  pio 
neer — one  of  those  fierce  and  terrible  men  who  form  in 
themselves  a  kind  of  protecting  fringe  to  the  borders  of 
white  civilisation." 

Then  comes  a  typical  paragraph :  ' '  The  night  they  buried 
him,  there  came  a  storm.  .  .  .  From  the  same  room 
whence  I  had  watched  the  funeral,  I  saw  the  Northern 
mists  crossing  the  Mississippi  into  Arkansas  like  an  in 
vading  army ;  then  came  grey  rain,  and  at  last  a  fierce  wind, 
making  wild  charges  through  it  all.  Somehow  or  other 
the  queer  fancy  came  to  me  that  the  dead  Confederate 
cavalrymen,  rejoined  by  their  desperate  leader,  were  fight 
ing  ghostly  battles  with  the  men  who  died  for  the  Union." 

To  Mr.  Watkin  he  wrote  describing  his  big,  dreary  hotel 
room  overlooking  the  Mississippi  whence  he  could  hear  the 
panting  and  puffing  of  the  cotton  boats  and  the  deep  calls 
of  the  river  traffic,  but  of  the  Thompson  Dean  there  was 
not  a  sign  to  be  seen  or  heard.  In  every  corner  between 

90 


MEMPHIS 

the  banisters  of  the  old  stairway  spiders  were  busy  spin 
ning  their  dusty  tapestries,  and  when  he  walked  over  the 
floors  at  night  they  creaked  and  groaned  as  if  something  or 
somebody  was  following  him  in  the  dark. 

It  was,  he  declared,  a  lonely  sensation,  that  of  finding 
yourself  alone  in  a  strange  city.  He  felt  inclined  to  cry 
during  the  solitary  hours  of  the  night,  as  he  used  to  do 
when  a  college  boy  returned  from  vacation.  .  .  .  "I 
suppose,"  he  adds,  "you  are  beginning  to  think  I  am  writ 
ing  quite  often.  I  suppose  I  am,  and  you  know  the  reason 
why;  and  perhaps  you  are  thinking  to  yourself,  'He  feels 
lonely,  and  is  accordingly  affectionate,  but  by  and  by  he 
will  forget. '  Well,  I  suppose  you  are  right. ' '  By  and  by, 
when  he  was  less  lonely,  he  said,  he  would  write  perhaps 
only  by  weeks,  or  perhaps  by  months,  or  perhaps,  again, 
only  by  years — until  the  times  and  places  of  old  friend 
ships  were  forgotten  and  old  faces  had  become  dim  as 
dreams. 

At  last  the  New  Orleans  steamer,  the  Thompson  Dean, 
arrived,  and  Hearn  floated  off  on  board  into  the  current 
of  the  mighty  river,  and  also,  inspired  by  the  enchantment 
of  his  surroundings,  into  the  flood-tide  of  his  genius.  A 
letter  contributed  to  the  Commercial,  describing  the  "Fair 
Paradise  of  the  South,"  the  great  sugar  country,  in  which 
he  now  found  himself,  shows  how  he  was  gaining  in  the 
manipulation  of  his  material,  also  gaining  in  the  power  of 
appreciating  the  splendour  of  the  vision,  the  inmost  ulti 
mate  secret  Nature  ever  reveals  to  those  who  can  compre 
hend  and  decipher  it. 

As  the  little  half -blind  genius  sat  on  the  cotton  bales  on 
the  deck  of  the  Thompson  Dean  those  autumn  days,  peer 
ing  forth  one  moment,  the  next  with  nose  close  to  the  paper, 
his  pen  scratching  rapidly,  describing  the  marvellous 
pictures,  setting  down  the  impressions  that  slipped  by  on 
either  hand,  all  the  joy  of  an  imprisoned  tumultuous  soul 

91 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

set  free,  mentally  and  morally  free,  must  have  come  to 
him.  It  breathes  in  every  line,  in  every  paragraph  of  his 
work.  And  not  only  was  this  passionate  joy  his,  but  also 
the  exhilarating  assurance  of  knowing  that  by  self-denial, 
industry  and  the  determination  to  succeed  he  had  achieved 
and  perfected  the  power  to  describe  and  expound  the  mar 
vellous  pageant  to  others.  From  the  horizon  widening  in 
front  of  him,  through  the  " Great  South  Gate,"  from  "The 
Gulf"  and  the  Tropics,  from  Martinique  and  Florida 
came  the  health-giving  breeze,  carrying  on  its  wings  cour 
age,  regeneration,  and  the  promise  of  future  recognition 
and  fame. 

Many  were  his  backslidings,  even  to  the  extent  of  medi 
tating  suicide  during  the  first  years  of  his  sojourn  in  New 
Orleans,  but  never  did  he  fall  so  morally  low  as  at  Cin 
cinnati.  That  life  of  sordidness  and  ignominy  was  left 
behind,  the  unclean  spirit  exorcised  and  cast  forth!  He 
had  made  his  body  a  house  of  shame,  but  that  very  shame 
had  set  throbbing  subtle,  infinite  vibrations,  a  spiritual 
resonance  and  response  to  higher  endeavour  and  hope.  He 
knew  himself  to  be  a  man  again,  sane,  clear-brained,  his 
deep  appreciation  of  beauty  able  to  rise  on  the  heights  of 
the  music  of  utterance  as  he  poured  forth  the  delight  of  his 
soul. 

Surely  some  light  from  the  Louisiana  sun  must  have 
flashed  from  the  page  athwart  the  gloom  of  the  dusty  office 
of  the  Commercial;  some  magic,  bewitching  the  senses  of 
the  practical,  hard-headed  editor,  inducing  him  to  offer 
the  piece  of  poetic  prose  contributed  by  his  "Ozias  Mid 
winter"  correspondent,  describing  a  Louisiana  sunrise,  to 
the  ordinary  reading  public  of  a  Cincinnati  daily  news 
paper. 


92 


CHAPTER  IX 

NEW   ORLEANS 

"The  infinite  gulf  of  blue  above  seems  a  shoreless  sea,  whose  foam 
is  stars,  a  myriad  million  lights  are  throbbing  and  flickering  and  pal 
pitating,  a  vast  stillness  filled  with  perfume  prevails  over  the  land, — 
made  only  more  impressive  by  the  voices  of  the  night-birds  and 
crickets;  and  all  the  busy  voices  of  business  are  dead.  The  boats  are 
laid  up,  cotton  presses  closed,  and  the  city  is  half  empty.  So  that 
the  time  is  really  inspiring.  But  I  must  wait  to  record  the  inspira 
tion  in  some  more  energetic  climate." 

IT  is  by  Hearn's  letters  to  Mr.  Watkin  that  we  are  able 
to  follow  his  more  intimate  feelings  and  mode  of  life  at  this 
period  of  his  career.  He  was  at  first  extravagantly  en 
thusiastic  about  the  quaint  beauty  and  novelty  of  his  sur 
roundings,  the  luxuriant  vegetation,  the  warmth  of  the 
climate,  the  charm  of  the  Creole  population  of  the  older 
portion  of  the  city.  The  wealth  of  a  world,  unworked  gold 
in  the  ore,  he  declared,  was  to  be  found  in  this  half -ruined 
Southern  Paradise;  in  spite  of  her  pitiful  decay,  it  still 
was  an  enchanting  city.  This  rose-coloured  view  of  New 
Orleans  was  soon  dissipated  by  pressing  financial  anxiety. 

He  had  been  visiting  his  uncle,  he  wrote,  and  was  on  the 
verge  of  beggary.  It  was  possible,  however,  to  live  on 
fish  and  vegetables  for  twenty  cents  a  day.  Not  long  after, 
we  find  him  begging  his  old  Dad  to  sell  all  his  books,  "ex 
cept  the  French  ones,"  and  send  him  the  proceeds,  as  he 
was  in  a  state  of  desperation  with  no  friend  to  help  him. 
The  need  of  money,  indeed,  so  cramped  and  hindered  his 
movements  that  he  was  unable  any  longer  to  get  material 
for  the  * l  copy ' '  of  his  newspaper  correspondence. 

93 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Want  of  money  seems  also  to  have  necessitated  frequent 
change  of  residence.  His  first  card  is  written  from  228 
Baronne  Street,  care  of  Mrs.  Bustellos.  In  the  left-hand 
corner  is  the  drawing  of  a  raven  sitting  disconsolate  beside 
a  door.  Shortly  afterwards  he  describes  himself  as  liv 
ing  in  an  old  house  with  dovecot-shaped  windows  shad 
owed  with  creeping  plants,  where  we  have  a  picture 
of  him  sitting  close  to  the  fire,  smoking  his  pipe  of 
"terre  Gambiese,"  conjuring  up  fancies  of  palm-trees 
and  humming-birds,  and  perfume-laden  winds,  while  a 
"voice  from  the  far  tropics  called  to  him  across  the 
darkness. ' ' 

It  is  easy  with  our  knowledge  of  Hearn  to  imagine  how 
the  money  he  started  with  in  his  pocket  from  Cincinnati 
melted  away  during  his  sojourn  at  Memphis,  his  journey 
down  the  Mississippi,  and  two  or  three  days  spent  amidst 
the  attractions  of  the  curio  shops  and  restaurants  of  the 
Crescent  City.  Gould  mentions  indignantly  Hearn 's  "in 
tolerable  and  brutalising  improvidence."  Without  using 
language  quite  so  intemperate,  it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  he  had  a  most  irritating  incapacity  for  mastering  the 
ignoble  necessity  for  making  expenditure  tally  with  reve 
nue.  The  editor  of  the  Commercial,  being  accustomed  to 
deal  with  the  ordinary  American  journalist,  to  whom  forty 
dollars  was  as  a  fortune,  did  not  reckon  apparently  with 
Hearn 's  Celtic  recklessness  in  the  matter  of  ways  and 
means. 

Seven  months  later,  he  declared  that  he  hadn't  made 
seven  cents  by  his  literary  work  in  New  Orleans.  His 
books  and  clothes  were  all  gone,  his  shirt  was  sticking 
through  the  seat  of  his  pants,  and  he  could  only  enjoy  a 
five-cent  meal  once  every  two  days.  At  last  he  hadn't 
even  a  penny  to  buy  stamps  to  mail  his  letters,  and  still 
the  Commercial  hadn't  sent  him  any  supplies.  Mr.  Wat- 
kin's  means  did  not  admit  of  his  helping  the  woe-begone 

94 


NEW  ORLEANS 

He  was  also  prevented  by  business  affairs  from 
sending  a  reply  for  some  weeks. 

His  silence  elicited  another  post-card,  a  tombstone  this 
time,  surmounted  by  a  crescent  moon,  with  a  dishevelled- 
looking  raven  perched  close  by. 

"I  dream  of  old,  ugly  things,"  Hearn  writes  years  later 
from  Japan,  when  referring  to  the  possibility  of  his  son 
being  subjected  to  the  poverty  and  suffering  he  had  expe 
rienced  himself.  "I  am  alone  in  an  American  city;  and 
I've  only  ten  cents  in  my  pocket — and  to  send  off  a  letter 
that  I  must  send  will  take  three  cents.  That  leaves  me 
seven  cents  for  the  day's  food.  .  .  .  The  horror  of  be 
ing  without  employ  in  an  American  city  appals  me — be 
cause  I  remember. ' ' 

The  Hermes  of  JEschylus  ventured  the  opinion,  as  an 
impartial  observer  of  events,  that  adversity  was  no  doubt 
salutary  for  Prometheus.  The  same  might  be  said  of  most 
of  those  touched  with  Promethean  fire.  Not  only  does 
privation  and  struggle  keep  the  spark  alight,  but  often 
blows  it  into  a  flame.  In  spite  of  hunger  and  straitened 
means,  Hearn  was  absorbing  impressions  on  every  hand. 
New  Orleans,  in  the  seventies  and  eighties  of  last  century, 
presented  conditions  for  the  nourishing  and  expanding  of 
such  a  genius  as  his,  that  were  most  likely  unattainable  in 
any  other  city  in  the  world. 

From  an  article  written  by  him,  entitled  "The  Scenes 
of  Cable's  Romances,"  that  appeared  at  this  time  in  the 
Century  Magazine,  we  can  conjure  up  this  strange  city 
rising  out  of  the  water  like  a  dream,  its  multi-coloured 
dilapidated  Franco-Spanish  houses,  with  their  eccentric 
facades  and  quaint  shop-signs  and  names.  We  can  see  the 
Rue  Royale,  its  picturesqueness  almost  unadulterated  by 
innovation,  its  gables,  eaves,  dormers,  projecting  balconies 
or  verandahs,  overtopping  or  jutting  out  of  houses  of 
every  imaginable  tint;  each  window  adorned  with  sap- 

95 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

green  batten  shutters,  and  balustraded  with  Arabesque 
work  in  wrought  iron,  framing  some  monogram  of  which 
the  meaning  is  forgotten.  We  can  imagine  the  little 
genius  wandering  along  such  a  street,  watching  the  Indians 
as  they  passed  in  coloured  blankets,  Mexicans  in  leather 
gaiters,  negresses  decked  out  in  green  and  yellow  bandanas, 
planters  in  white  flannels,  American  business  men  in  broad 
cloth  and  straw  hats — sauntering  backwards  and  forwards 
beneath  the  quaint  arcades,  balconies  and  coloured  awnings. 

We  picture  the  savannahs  and  half-submerged  cypress- 
groves  on  the  river  bank,  the  green  and  crimson  sunsets, 
the  star-lit  dusks,  the  sound  of  the  mighty  current  of  the 
Mississippi  as  it  slipped  by  under  the  shadow  of  willow- 
planted  jungle  and  rustling  orange-groves  towards  Bara- 
taria  and  the  Gulf. 

He  describes  a  planter's  house,  an  ''antique  vision/' 
relic  of  the  feudal  splendours  of  the  great  cotton  and 
sugar  country,  endeavouring  to  hide  its  ruin  amidst  over 
grown  gardens  and  neglected  groves,  oak-groves  left  un 
touched  only  because  their  French  Creole  owners,  though 
ruined,  refused  to  allow  Yankee  interlopers  to  cart  them 
to  the  sawmill,  or  to  allow  them  to  be  sent  away  to  the  cities 
up  North. 

We  follow  him  as,  in  his  near-sighted,  observant  way  he 
wandered  through  the  city,  listening  to  the  medley  of 
strange  tongues  peculiar  to  the  great  southern  port;  ob 
serving  the  Chinese  in  the  fruit-market,  yellow  as  bananas, 
the  quadroons  with  skins  like  dead  gold,  swarthy  sailors 
from  the  Mediterranean  coasts  and  the  Levant — from 
Sicily  and  Cyprus,  Corsica  and  Malta,  the  Ionian  Archi 
pelago,  and  a  hundred  cities  fringing  the  coasts  of  southern 
Europe,  wanderers  who  have  wandered  all  over  the  face 
of  the  earth,  sailors  who  have  sailed  all  seas,  sunned  them 
selves  at  a  hundred  tropical  ports,  casting  anchor  at  last 
by  the  levee  of  New  Orleans,  under  a  sky  as  divinely  blue, 

96 


NEW  ORLEANS 

in  a  climate  as  sunny  and  warm  as  their  own  beloved  sea. 
Amongst  them  all  he  was  able,  he  imagined,  to  distinguish 
some  on  whose  faces  lay  a  shadow  of  the  beauty  of  the 
antique  world — one,  in  particular,  from  Zante,  first  a  sailor, 
then  a  vendor;  some  day,  perhaps,  a  merchant.  Hearn 
immediately  purchased  some  of  his  oranges,  a  dozen  at  six 
cents. 

From  the  market  he  made  his  way  to  the  Spanish 
cathedral,  founded  by  the  representation  of  His  Most 
Catholic  Majesty,  Don  Andre  Alminaster,  where  plebeian 
feet  were  blotting  out  the  escutcheons  of  the  knights  of  the 
ancient  regime,  and  the  knees  of  worshippers  obliterating 
their  memory  from  the  carven  stone. 

Side  by  side  with  him  you  find  your  way  to  the  cotton 
landing  of  the  levee,  thence  watch  the  cotton  presses  with 
monstrous  heads  of  living  iron  and  brass,  fifty  feet  high 
from  their  junction  with  the  ground,  with  their  mouths 
five  feet  wide,  opening  six  feet  from  the  mastodon  teeth  in 
the  lower  jaw.  "The  more  I  looked  at  the  thing,"  he  says, 
"the  more  I  felt  as  though  its  prodigious  anatomy  had  been 
studied  after  the  anatomy  of  some  extinct  animal, — the 
way  those  jaws  worked,  the  manner  in  which  those  muscles 
moved.  Men  rolled  a  cotton  bale  to  the  mouth  of  the  mon 
ster.  The  jaws  opened  with  a  loud  roar,  and  so  remained. 
The  lower  jaw  had  descended  to  the  level  with  the  platform 
on  which  the  bale  was  lying.  It  was  an  immense  plan 
tation  bale.  Two  black  men  rolled  it  into  the  yawning 
mouth.  The  Titan  muscles  contracted,  and  the  jaws  closed 
silently,  steadily,  swiftly.  The  bale  flattened,  flattened, 
flattened  down  to  sixteen  inches,  twelve  inches,  eight  inches, 
five  inches, — positively  less  than  five  inches !  I  thought  it 
was  going  to  disappear  altogether.  But  after  crushing  it 
beyond  five  inches  the  jaw  remained  stationary  and  the 
monster  growled  like  rumbling  thunder.  I  thought  the 
machine  began  to  look  as  hideous  as  one  of  those  horrible 

97 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

yawning  heads  which  formed  the  gates  of  the  Teocallis  at 
Palenque,  through  whose  awful  jaws  the  sacrificed  victims 
passed." 

The  romance  that  hung  over  the  French  colony  of  New 
Orleans  appealed  to  Hearn's  love  of  the  picturesque.  The 
small  minority,  obliged  to  submit  to  the  rules  and  laws  of 
the  United  States,  but  animated  by  a  feeling  of  futile 
rebellion  against  their  rulers,  still  remaining  devoted  to 
their  country  that  had  sold  them  for  expediency. 

With  the  sympathy  of  his  Celtic  nature  he  entered  into 
the  misery  of  those  who  had  once  been  opulent — the 
princely  misery  that  never  doffed  its  smiling  mask,  though 
living  in  secret  from  week  to  week  on  bread  and  orange- 
leaf  tea,  the  misery  that  affected  condescension  in  accepting 
an  invitation  to  dine,  staring  at  the  face  of  a  watch  (re 
fused  by  the  mont  de  piete)  with  eyes  half -blinded  by 
starvation;  the  pretty  misery,  young,  brave,  sweet,  asking 
for  "a  treat"  of  cakes  too  jocosely  to  have  its  asking  an 
swered,  laughing  and  coquetting  with  its  well-fed  wooers, 
and  crying  for  hunger  after  they  were  gone. 

Here  for  the  first  time  since  the  France  of  his  youthful 
days,  Hearn  mixed  with  Latins,  seldom  hearing  the  English 
tongue. 

During  this  time,  while  he  was  loafing  and  dreaming, 
he  at  various  intervals  contributed  letters  to  the  Commer 
cial.  Now  that  his  genius  has  become  acknowledged,  these 
"Ozias  Midwinter"  letters,  written  in  the  autumn  and 
winter  of  1877  and  1878,  are  appreciated  at  their  just 
value;  but  it  would  be  absurd  to  say  that  from  the  ac 
cepted  signification  of  the  word  they  come  under  the  head 
of  satisfactory  newspaper  reporting.  The  American  pub 
lic  wanted  a  clear  and  dispassionate  view  of  political  af 
fairs  in  the  state  of  Louisiana,  and  how  they  were  likely  to 
affect  trade  in  the  state  of  Ohio. 

We  can  imagine  an  honest  Cincinnati  citizen  puzzling 

98 


NEW  ORLEANS 

over  the  following,  and  wondering  what  in  all  creation  the 
'  *  Louisianny "  correspondent  meant  by  giving  him  such 
rubbish  to  digest  with  his  morning's  breakfast: — 

"I  think  there  is  some  true  poetry  in  these  allusions  to 
the  snake.  Is  not  the  serpent  a  symbol  of  grace?  Is  not 
the  so-called  'line  of  beauty'  serpentine?  And  is  there 
not  something  of  the  serpent  in  the  beauty  of  all  graceful 
women?  something  of  undulating  shapeliness,  something 
of  silent  fascination  ?  something  of  Lilith  and  Lamia  ? ' ' 

In  April,  1878,  apparently  in  response  to  a  demand  for 
news  more  suited  to  the  exigencies  of  a  daily  northern 
newspaper,  came  two  letters  on  political  questions,  written 
in  so  biassed  and  half-hearted  a  fashion  that  it  was  not 
surprising  to  see  the  next  letter  from  New  Orleans  signed 
by  another  name.  So  the  little  man  lost  his  opportunity, 
an  opportunity  such  as  is  given  to  few  journalists,  situated 
as  he  was,  of  earning  a  competency  and  achieving  a  literary 
position.  He  himself  acknowledged  that  his  own  incom 
patibility  of  temper  and  will  were  to  be  credited  with  most 
of  the  adverse  circumstances  which  beset  him  so  frequently 
during  the  course  of  his  life.  A  little  yielding  on  his  part 
was  all  that  was  necessary  at  this  time  to  enable  him  to 
keep  his  head  above  water  until  regular  work  came  his 
way. 

Not  long  after  this  catastrophe  Hearn  attained  his 
twenty-eighth  birthday.  Alluding  to  this  fact,  he  says 
that,  looking  back  to  the  file  of  his  twenty-eight  years,  he 
realised  an  alarming  similarity  of  misery  in  each  of  them, 
ill-success  in  every  aim,  an  inability  to  make  headway  by 
individual  force  against  unforeseen  and  unexpected  dis 
appointments.  Indeed,  sometimes,  when  success  seemed 
certain,  it  was  upset  by  some  unanticipated  obstacle,  gen 
erally  proceeding  from  his  own  waywardness  and  unprac 
tical  nature.  Some  loss  of  temper,  and  impatience,  which, 
instead  of  being  restrained  and  concealed,  was  shown  with 

99 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

stupid  frankness,  might  be  credited  with  a  large  majority 
of  failures.  All  this  he  confessed  in  one  of  his  character 
istic  letters  addressed  to  Mr.  Watkin  about  this  time.  He 
then  recounts  the  sufferings  he  had  been  through,  how  he 
found  it  impossible  to  make  ten  dollars  a  month  when 
twenty  was  a  necessity  for  comfortable  living.  He  had 
been  cheated,  he  said,  and  swindled  considerably,  and  had 
cheated  and  swindled  others  in  retaliation.  Then  he 
damns  New  Orleans  and  its  inhabitants,  as  later  he  damned 
Japan  and  the  Japanese.  But  the  real  fact  was  that,  with 
that  gipsy-like  nature  of  his,  he  loved  wandering  and 
change  of  scene;  he  disliked  the  monotony  of  staying  be 
yond  a  certain  time  in  the  same  place.  "My  heart  always 
feels  like  a  bird,  fluttering  impatiently  for  the  migrating 
season.  I  think  I  could  be  quite  happy  if  I  were  a  swallow 
and  could  have  a  summer  nest  in  the  ear  of  an  Egyptian 
Colossus,  or  a  broken  capital  of  the  Parthenon." 

About  this  time  an  epidemic  of  yellow  fever  swept  over 
the  city,  desolating  the  population.  Hearn  did  not  fall  a 
victim,  but  underwent  a  severe  attack  of  "dengue'*  fever. 

' '  I  got  hideously  sick,  and  then  well  again, ' '  he  writes  to 
Mrs.  Atkinson.  It  killed  nearly  seven  thousand  people. 
He  describes  the  pest-stricken  city,  with  its  heat  motionless 
and  ponderous.  The  steel-blue  of  the  sky  bleached  from 
the  furnace  circle  of  the  horizon;  the  slow-running  river, 
its  current  yellow  as  a  flood  of  fluid  wax,  the  air  suffocating 
with  vapour;  and  the  luminous  city  filled  with  a  faint, 
sickly  odour — a  stale  smell  as  of  dead  leaves  suddenly  dis 
interred  from  wet  mould,  and  each  day  the  terror-stricken 
population  offering  its  sacrifice  to  Death,  the  faces  of  the 
dead  yellow  as  flame!  On  door-posts,  telegraph-poles,  pil 
lars  of  verandahs,  lamps  over  government  letter-boxes, 
glimmered  the  white  enunciations  of  death.  All  the  city 
was  spotted  with  them.  And  lime  was  poured  into  the  gut 
ters,  and  huge  purifying  fires  kindled  after  sunset. 

100 


NEW  ORLEANS, 

After  his  attack  of  fever,  unable  to  regain  his  strength 
owing  to  insufficient  food  and  the  unhealthiness  of  the  part 
of  the  city  where  he  had  elected  to  live,  Hearn's  eyesight 
became  affected. 

"I  went  stone  blind,  had  to  be  helped  to  a  doctor's  office 
— no  money,  no  friends.  My  best  friend  was  a  revolver 
kept  to  use  in  case  the  doctor  failed, ' '  he  tells  his  sister. 

In  "Chita,"  which,  as  we  have  said,  is  only  a  bundle  of 
reminiscences,  he  refers  to  the  suicide  of  a  Spaniard, 
Ramirez.  From  his  tomb  a  sinister  voice  seemed  to  say, 
"Go  thou  and  do  likewise!"  .  .  .  Then  began  within 
that  man  the  ghostly  struggle  between  courage  and  despair, 
between  darkness  and  light,  which  all  sensitive  natures 
must  wage  in  their  own  souls  at  least  once  in  their  lives. 
The  suicide  is  not  a  coward,  he  is  an  egotist;  as  he  strug 
gled  with  his  own  worst  self  something  of  the  deeper  and 
nobler  comprehension  of  human  weakness  and  human  suf 
fering  was  revealed  to  him.  He  flung  the  lattice  shutters 
apart  and  looked  out.  How  sweet  the  morning,  how  well 
life  seemed  worth  living,  as  the  sunlight  fell  through  the 
frost  haze  outside,  lighting  up  the  quaint  and  chequered 
street  and  fading  away  through  faint  bluish  tints  into 
transparent  purples.  Verily  it  is  the  sun  that  gladdeneth 
the  infinite  world. 


101 


CHAPTER  X 
WIDER   HORIZONS 

"There  are  no  more  mysteries — except  what  are  called  hearts, 
those  points  at  which  individuals  rarely  touch  each  other,  only  to  feel 
as  sudden  a  thrill  of  surprise  as  at  meeting  a  ghost,  and  then  to  won 
der  in  vain,  for  the  rest  of  life,  what  lies  out  of  soul-sight."  * 

THE  doctor  Hearn  alludes  to  in  his  letter  to  his  sister 
was  Rudolf  Matas,  a  Spaniard,  now  an  eminent  physician 
and  a  very  important  person  in  New  Orleans.  He  did  not 
fail  the  little  man  who  was  brought  almost  stone  blind  to 
his  consulting-room  that  winter  of  1876.  In  six  months  his 
eyes  were  comparatively  well,  and  he  was  able  to  return 
to  regular  literary  work. 

Matas  always  remained  Hearn 's  firm  partisan,  and  was 
an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  his  genius ;  Hearn  seems  to  have 
reciprocated  his  affection,  and  years  afterwards  addressed 
some  of  his  most  interesting  letters  from  Martinique  to  his 
"dear  brother  and  friend  Rudolfo  Matas."  By  him  he  is 
said  to  have  been  told  the  incidents  in  the  story  of  "Chita/7 
and  to  him  the  book  was  dedicated. 

After  the  yellow  fever  had  passed  away  "there  were 
plenty  of  vacancies  waiting  to  be  filled,"  Hearn  signifi 
cantly  tells  his  sister.  .  .  . 

A  daily  newspaper  called  the  Item  was  at  that  time 
issued  in  New  Orleans.  A  great  deal  of  clipping  and  paste- 
pot  went  to  its  production,  "items"  taken  from  European 

i  "The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co. 

102 


WIDER  HORIZONS 

and  American  sources  filling  most  of  its  columns.  Hearn 
described  it  as  a  poor  little  sheet  going  no  farther  north 
than  St.  Louis. 

He  was  offered  the  assistant-editorship;  the  leisure  that 
he  found  for  literary  pursuits  on  his  own  account  more 
than  compensated  for  the  smallness  of  the  salary.  He 
hoped  now  to  be  able  to  scribble  as  much  as  he  liked,  and 
to  have  an  opportunity  for  reading,  with  a  view  to  more 
consecutive  and  concentrated  work  than  mere  contributions 
to  daily  and  weekly  newspapers.  He  also  had  many  op 
portunities,  he  said,  for  mixing  with  strange  characters, 
invaluable  as  literary  material — Creoles,  Spaniards,  Mex 
icans — all  that  curious,  heterogeneous  society  peculiar  to 
New  Orleans. 

If  in  Cincinnati  to  mix  with  coloured  folk  was  deemed 
sufficient  to  place  yourself  under  the  ban  of  decent  society, 
it  was  ten  times  more  so  in  New  Orleans;  but  Lafcadio 
Hearn,  Bohemian  and  rebel,  took  the  keenest  pleasure  in 
outraging  public  opinion,  and  challenging  scandalous 
tongues,  breaking  out  of  bounds  whenever  the  spirit 
prompted,  and  throwing  in  his  lot  with  people  who  were 
looked  upon  as  pariahs  and  outcasts  from  the  world  of  so- 
called  respectability. 

At  one  time  he  took  up  his  abode  in  a  ruined  house,  under 
the  same  roof  as  a  Creole  fortune-teller.  He  describes  her 
room  with  its  darkened  windows,  skulls  and  crossbones,  and 
lamp  lit  in  front  of  a  mysterious  shrine.  This  was  quite 
sufficient  to  associate  his  name  with  hers,  and  many  were 
the  unfounded  rumours — Nemesis  of  the  unfortunate  epi 
sode  with  Althea  Foley  at  Cincinnati — which  floated  north 
wards  regarding  the  manner  of  his  life. 

Some  members  of  a  Brahminical  Society  visited  New 
Orleans  about  this  time.  Needless  to  say  that  Hearn  im 
mediately  foregathered  with  them,  and  in  leisure  hours  took 
to  studying  the  theories  of  the  East,  the  poetry  of  ancient 

103 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

India,  the  teachings  of  the  wise  concerning  "  absorption 
and  emotion,  the  illusions  of  existence,  and  happiness  as 
the  equivalent  of  annihilation,"  maintaining  that  Bud 
dhism  was  wiser  than  the  wisest  of  occidental  faiths.  He 
astonished  the  readers  of  the  Item  by  weird  and  mystical 
articles  on  the  subject  of  the  Orient  and  oriental  creeds, 
considerably  increasing  the  sale  of  the  little  paper,  and 
drawing  attention,  amongst  cultured  circles  in  New  Or 
leans,  to  his  own  genius. 

The  routine  of  his  life  at  this  time  is  given  in  letters 
written  to  his  "old  Dad"  and  his  friend,  Krehbiel. 

The  same  ascetic  scorn  for  material  comfort,  heritage  of 
his  oriental  ancestry,  seems  to  have  distinguished  him  at 
this  period  in  New  Orleans,  as  later  in  Japan.  The  early 
cup  of  coffee,  the  morning's  work  at  the  office,  "concocting 
devilment"  for  the  Item,  his  Spanish  lessons  with  Jose  de 
Jesus  y  Preciado,  the  "peripatetic  blasphemy,"  as  he 
named  him  afterwards,  dinner  at  a  Chinese  restaurant  for 
an  infinitesimal  sum,  an  hour  or  two  spent  at  second-hand 
book-stalls,  and  home  to  bed.  There  is,  I  am  told,  an  in 
dividual,  Armand  Hawkins  by  name,  owner  of  an  ancient 
book-store  at  New  Orleans,  still  alive,  who  remembers  the 
curious  little  genius,  with  his  prominent  eyes,  wonderful 
knowledge  on  all  sorts  of  out-of-the-way  subjects  recounted 
in  a  soft,  musical  voice,  who  used  to  come  almost  daily  to 
visit  his  book-store.  He  it  was  who  enabled  Hearn  to  get 
together  the  library  about  which  there  has  been  so  much 
discussion  since  his  death.  Next  to  his  love  of  buying  old 
books,  Hearn 's  great  indulgence  seems  to  have  been  smok 
ing,  not  cigars,  but  pipes  of  every  make  and  description. 

The  glimpses  we  get  of  him  from  his  own  letters  and 
from  reminiscences  collected  from  various  people  in  New 
Orleans  all  give  the  same  impression.  A  Bohemian  love 
of  vagabondage,  picking  up  impressions  here  and  there, 
some  of  which  were  set  down  in  pencil,  some  in  ink ;  as  far 

104 


WIDER  HORIZONS 

as  his  eyesight  would  permit,  many  were  the  sketches  made 
at  this  time.  None  of  them  have  been  preserved,  except 
the  very  clever  Mephistophelian  one  sent  to  Mr.  Watkin 
and  reproduced  in  the  volume  entitled  "Letters  from  the 
Raven."  "He  was  a  gifted  creature,"  says  a  lady  who 
knew  him  at  this  time.  * '  He  came  fluttering  in  and  out  of 
our  house  like  a  shy  moth,  and  was  adored  by  my  chil 
dren." 

He  had  no  ambitions,  no  loves,  no  anxieties,  sometimes 
a  vague  unrest  without  a  motive,  sometimes  a  feeling  as 
if  his  heart  were  winged  and  trying  to  soar;  sometimes  a 
half-crazy  passion  for  a  great  night  with  wine  and  women 
and  music;  but  the  wandering  passion  was  strongest  of 
all,  and  he  felt  no  inclination  to  avail  himself  of  the  only 
anchor  which  keeps  the  ship  of  a  man's  life  in  port.  .  .  . 
Nights  were  so  liquid  with  tropic  moonlight,  days  so  splen 
did  with  green  and  gold,  summer  so  languid  with  perfume 
and  warmth,  that  he  hardly  knew  whether  he  was  dream 
ing  or  awake. 

In  1881,  Hearn  succeeded  in  becoming  a  member  of  the 
staff  of  the  leading  New  Orleans  paper,  the  Times  Demo 
crat,  "the  largest  paper,"  he  tells  his  sister,  "in  the  South 
ern  States. ' '  He  now  seemed  to  have  entered  on  a  halcyon 
period  of  life — congenial  society,  romantic  and  interesting 
surroundings.  Penetrated  with  enthusiasm  for  the  mod 
ern  French  literary  school  as  he  was,  he  here  met  intellects 
and  temperaments  akin  to  his  own.  Now  he  was  enabled 
to  get  his  translations  from  Gautier  and  Baudelaire  printed, 
and  read  for  the  first  time  by  an  appreciative  public. 
* l  Everybody  was  kind, ' '  he  tells  his  sister ;  "  I  became  well 
and  strong,  lived  steadily,  spent  my  salary  on  books.  I 
was  thus  able  to  make  up  for  my  deficiencies  of  education. 
.  .  .  I  had  only  a  few  hours  of  work  each  day ;— plenty 
of  time  to  study.  I  wrote  novels  and  other  books  which 
literary  circles  approved  of." 

105 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

With  Page  Baker,  the  owner  and  editor-in-chief  of  the 
Times  Democrat,  he  formed  a  salutary  and  enduring  friend 
ship.  The  very  difference  in  character  between  the  two 
seems  to  have  made  the  bond  all  the  more  enduring.  Page 
Baker  was  a  man  of  great  business  capacity,  and  at  the 
same  time  keen  discrimination  in  literary  affairs.  From 
the  first  he  conceived  the  highest  opinion  of  Hearn's  liter 
ary  ability.  However  fantastic  or  out-of-the-way  his  con 
tributions  to  the  columns  of  the  Times  Democrat,  they 
were  always  inserted  without  elision.  Years  afterwards, 
writing  to  him  from  Japan,  Hearn  declares,  in  answer  to  a 
panegyric  written  by  Page  Baker  on  some  of  his  Japanese 
books,  that  the  most  delightful  criticisms  he  ever  had  were 
Page  Baker's  own  readings  aloud  of  his  vagaries  in  the 
"T.  D."  office,  after  the  proofs  came  down,  just  fresh  from 
the  composition  room,  with  the  wet,  sharp,  inky  smell  still 
on  the  paper.  Baker,  apparently,  in  1893  sent  him  sub 
stantial  help,  and  Hearn  writes  thanking  him  from  the 
bottom  of  his  much-scarified  heart.  Often  amidst  the 
cramped,  austere  conditions  of  his  existence  in  Japan,  he 
recalled  these  days  of  communion  with  congenial  spirits 
at  New  Orleans,  and  work  with  his  colleagues  at  the  Times 
Democrat  office.  * '  Ghosts !  After  getting  your  letter  last 
night  I  dreamed.  Do  you  remember  that  splendid  Creole 

who  used  to  be  your  city  editor — John ? — is  it  not  a  sin 

that  I  have  forgotten  his  name?  He  sat  in  a  big  chair  in 
the  old  office,  and  told  me  wonderful  things,  which  I  could 
not  recall  on  waking." 

In  a  letter  dated  July  7,  1882,  Hearn  tells  Mr.  Watkin 
that  he  had  entered  into  an  arrangement  with  Worthing- 
ton,  the  publisher,  for  the  issuing  of  his  translation  of 
Gautier's  stories  made  at  Cincinnati.  It  was  to  cost  him 
one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  but  there  was  an  under 
standing  that  this  money  was  to  be  repaid  by  royalties  on 
the  sale  of  the  book  and  any  extra  profits.  He  announced 

106 


WIDER  HORIZONS 

his  intention  of  going  North  in  a  few  months  by  way  of 
Cincinnati,  as  he  wished  to  see  Worthington  about  his  new 
publication.  Though  he  was  making,  he  said,  the  respect 
able  wage  of  thirty  dollars  a  week  for  five  hours'  work  a 
day,  he  felt  enervated  by  the  climate,  incapable  of  any 
long  stretch  of  work,  and  thought  change  to  a  northern 
climate  for  a  bit  might  stimulate  his  intellectual  powers. 
He  then  touched  on  the  changes  that  passing  years  had 
wrought  in  his  outlook  on  life.  "Less  despondent,  but 
less  hopeful;  wiser  a  little  and  more  silent;  less  nervous, 
but  less  merry;  .  .  .  not  strictly  economical,  but  com 
ing  to  it  steadily."  His  horizons  were  widening,  the  ac 
complishment  of  a  fixed  purpose  in  life  was  really  the  only 
pleasurable  experience,  and  the  grasp  of  a  friendly  hand 
the  only  real  satisfaction  of  an  existence  that  wisdom  de 
clared  a  delusion  and  a  snare. 

Hearn  at  times  indulged  in  exaggerated  fits  of  economy, 
the  one  thought  that  animated  him  being  the  idea  of  free 
ing  himself  from  the  yoke  of  dependence  on  the  whims  of 
employers — from  the  harness  of  journalism.  He  made  up 
his  mind  to  keep  house  for  himself,  so  hired  a  room  in  the 
northern  end  of  the  French  quarter,  and  purchased  a  com 
plete  set  of  cooking  utensils  and  kitchen  ware.  He  suc 
ceeded  in  reducing  his  expenses  to  two  dollars  a  week,  and 
kept  them  at  that  (exclusive  of  rent),  although  his  salary 
rose  to  thirty  dollars  a  week.  Having  saved  a  respectable 
sum,  he  formed  the  fantastical  idea  of  trying  to  keep  a 
restaurant,  run  on  the  lines  of  the  cheap  Spanish  and 
Chinese  restaurants  he  had  been  wont  to  frequent.  "Bus 
iness — ye  Antiquities";  hard,  practical  business!  he  told 
Krehbiel;  honourable,  respectable  business,  but  devoid  of 
dreamful  illusions.  "Alas,  this  is  no  world  for  dream 
ing." 

The  venture  ended  as  might  have  been  expected. 
Hearn  had  not  inherited  the  commercial  instincts  of  his 

107 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ancestors  who  sold  oil  and  wine  in  the  Ionian  Islands;  his 
partner  robbed  him  of  all  the  money  he  had  invested, 
and  decamped,  leaving  him  saddled  with  the  restaurant 
and  a  considerable  number  of  debts.  A  swindling  build 
ing  society  seems  to  have  absorbed  the  rest  of  his 
savings. 

After  these  two  catastrophes  the  little  man  became  al 
most  comically  terrified  at  financial  enterprise  of  any  kind, 
even  the  investment  of  money  in  dividend-paying  concerns. 
When  Captain  Mitchell  McDonald  later,  in  Japan,  endeav 
oured  to  induce  him  to  put  his  money  into  various  lucrative 
concerns,  Hearn  declared  that  he  would  prefer  to  lose 
everything  he  owned  than  submit  to  the  worry  of  investing 
it.  The  mere  idea  of  business  was  l '  a  horror,  a  nightmare, 
a  torture  unspeakable. " 

Though  apparently  only  journalising  and  translating, 
Hearn  was  piling  up  experiences  and  sensations,  not  mak 
ing  use  of  them  except  in  letters,  but  laying  down  the 
concrete  and  setting  the  foundation  for  his  work  in  the 
West  Indies  and  Japan.  "The  days  come  and  go  like 
muffled  and  veiled  figures  sent  from  a  friendly,  distant 
party ;  but  they  say  nothing,  and  if  we  do  not  use  the  gifts 
they  bring,  they  carry  them  silently  away."  Emerson  did 
not  take  into  account  those  apparently  infertile  periods  in 
an  artist's  life,  when  the  days  come  and  go,  but  though  they 
pass  silently  away,  all  their  gifts  are  not  unused,  nor  is 
their  passage  unproductive.  How  invaluable,  for  instance, 
was  Hearn 's  study  of  Creole  proverbs  for  his  "Two  Years 
in  the  French  West  Indies."  How  invaluable  for  his  in 
terpretation  of  the  Orient  were  the  studies  he  undertook 
for  "Strange  Leaves  from  Strange  Literature,"  and  his 
six  small  adaptations  entitled  "Chinese  Ghosts." 

After  several  refusals  "Stray  Leaves"  was  accepted  for 
publication  by  Osgood.  He  thus  announced  the  fact  to  his 
friend  Krehbiel : — 

108 


WIDER  HORIZONS 

"DEAR  K.  (Private), 

* '  '  Stray  Leaves, '  etc.,  have  been  accepted  by  James 
K.  Osgood  and  Co.  Congratulate  your  little  Dreamer  of 
Monstrous  Dreams, 

"Aschadnan  na  Mahomet  Rasoul  Allah, 
"Bismillah, 

"Allah-hu-akbar." 

The  book  was  dedicated  to  "Page  M.  Baker,  Editor  of 
the  New  Orleans  Times  Democrat." 

This  series  of  small  sketches  is  typical  of  the  clarity  of 
language  and  purity  of  thought  that  invariably  distinguish 
Hearn's  work;  but  it  lacks  the  realism,  the  keenness  of 
cJioses  vues,  so  characteristic  of  his  Japanese  sketches. 
There  is  none  of  the  haunting,  moving  tragedy  and  ghost- 
liness,  the  spiritual  imagination  and  introspection  of 
"Kokoro"  or  the  "Exotics."  Though  polished  and  schol 
arly,  showing  refinement  in  the  use  of  words,  the  interest 
is  remote  and  visionary,  permeated  here  and  there  also 
with  a  certain  amount  of  Celtic  sentimentality,  a  "Tommy 
Moore"  flavour,  somewhat  too  saccharine  in  quality.  The 
one,  for  instance,  called  l  i  Boutimar ' '  treats  of  a  very  hack 
neyed  subject,  the  offering  of  the  water  of  youth,  and  life 
without  end,  to  Solomon,  and  the  sage's  refusal,  because  of 
the  remembrance  suggested  by  Boutimar  that  he  would 
outlive  children,  friends  and  all  whom  he  loved;  therefore 
"Solomon,  without  reply,  silently  put  out  his  arm  and 
gave  back  the  cup.  .  .  .  But  upon  the  prophet-king's 
rich  beard,  besprinkled  with  powder  of  gold,  there  ap 
peared  another  glitter  as  of  clear  dew, —  the  diamond  dew 
of  the  heart,  which  is  tears." 

"Chinese  Ghosts,"  though  distinguished  also  by  that 
soigneux  flavour  that  gives  a  slightly  artificial  impression, 
holds  far  more  the  distinctive  flavour  of  Hearn's  genius. 
His  own  soul  is  written  into  the  legend  of  ' '  Pu  the  potter. ' ' 

109 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

"  Convinced  that  a  soul  cannot  be  divided,  Pu  entered  the 
flame,  and  yielded  up  his  ghost  in  the  embrace  of  the  Spirit 
of  the  Furnace,  giving  his  life  for  the  life  of  his  work, — 
his  soul  for  the  soul  of  his  Vase." 

By  the  publication  of  the  "Letters  from  the  Raven"  we 
are  enabled  to  push  those  to  Krehbiel,  published  by  Miss 
Bisland,  into  place,  and  assign  fairly  accurate  dates  to  each 
of  them.  He  tells  Mr.  Watkin  that  he  was  six  months 
before  finding  a  fixed  residence.  In  August,  1878,  he 
writes  inviting  him  to  come  in  the  autumn  to  pay  him  a 
visit,  and  telling  him  of  delightful  rooms  with  five  large 
windows  opening  on  piazzas,  shaded  by  banana-trees. 
This  apparently  is  the  house  in  St.  Louis  Street,  which  he 
describes  to  Krehbiel.  Miss  Bisland  places  it  almost  at  the 
beginning  of  the  series,  but  it  must  have  been  written  at  a 
considerably  later  period.  How  picturesque  and  vivid  is 
his  description !  With  the  magic  of  his  pen  he  conjures 
up  the  huge  archway,  with  its  rolling  echoes,  the  court 
yard  surrounded  bjr  palm-trees,  their  dry  leaves  rustling 
in  the  wind,  the  broad  stairway  guarded  by  a  hoary  dog, 
his  own  sitting-room  and  study,  "vast  enough  for  a  carni 
val  ball,"  with  its  five  windows  and  glass  doors  opening 
flush  with  the  floor  and  rising  to  the  ceiling. 

Gautier,  the  artist  to  whom  at  one  time  Hearn  pinned 
his  faith,  is  said  to  have  observed  once  to  an  admirer  of 
his  art:  "I  am  only  a  man  to  whom  the  visible  world  is 
visible.  ' '  So  Laf cadio  Hearn,  though  gifted  with  only  half 
the  eyesight  of  ordinary  folk,  was  by  the  prescience  of  his 
genius  enabled  to  see  not  only  the  visible  world  that  the 
Frenchman  saw,  but  an  immaterial  and  spiritual  world  as 
well. 


110 


CHAPTER  XI 
LETTERS   AND   PERSONAL    CHARACTERISTICS 

"Writing  to  you  as  a  friend,  I  write  of  my  thoughts  and  fancies, 
of  my  wishes  and  disappointments,  of  my  frailties  and  follies  and 
failures  and  successes, — even  as  I  would  write  to  a  brother.  So  that 
sometimes  what  might  not  seem  strange  in  words,  appears  very 
strange  upon  paper." 

LAFCADIO  HEARN'S  thoughts,  aspirations  and  mode  of 
life  are  revealed  with  almost  daily  minuteness  during  this 
period  at  New  Orleans — indeed,  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  by 
his  interchange  of  letters  with  various  friends.  Those 
contained  in  the  three  volumes  published  by  Miss  Bisland 
(Mrs.  Wetmore)  are  now  indisputably  placed  in  the  first 
rank  amongst  the  many  series  from  eminent  people  that 
have  been  given  to  the  world  during  the  last  half-century. 
It  is  apparent  in  every  line  that  no  idea  of  publicity  actu 
ated  the  writing  of  his  outpourings;  indeed,  we  imagine 
that  nothing  would  have  surprised  Hearn  more  than  the 
manner  in  which  his  letters  have  been  discussed,  quoted, 
criticised.  They  are  simply  the  outcome  of  an  impulse  to 
unburden  an  extraordinarily  imaginative  and  versatile 
brain  of  its  cargo  of  opinions,  views,  prejudices,  beliefs ;  to 
pour,  as  it  were,  into  the  listening  ear  of  an  intelligent  and 
sympathetic  friend  the  confessions  of  his  own  intellectual 
struggles,  his  doubts  and  despairs.  Shy,  reserved,  op 
pressed  in  social  daily  intercourse  by  a  sense  of  physical 
disabilities,  with  a  pen  in  hand  and  a  sheet  of  paper  in  front 
of  him,  he  cast  off  all  disquieting  considerations  and  al 
lowed  the  spiritual  structure  of  emotion  and  thought  to 
show  itself  in  the  nakedness  of  its  humanity. 

Ill 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

To  most  authors  letter-writing  is  an  unwelcome  task. 
"Ask  a  carpenter  to  plane  planks  just  for  fun,"  as  Hearn 
quotes  from  Gautier;  but  to  him  it  was  a  relaxation  from 
his  daily  task  of  journalism  and  literary  work.  Dr.  Gould 
says  that,  while  stopping  in  his  house  at  Philadelphia, 
Hearn  would  sometimes  break  off  suddenly  in  the  midst  of  a 
discussion,  especially  if  he  were  afraid  of  losing  his  tem 
per,  and  retire  to  his  own  room,  where  he  would  fill  sheets 
of  the  yellow  paper,  which  he  habitually  used,  with  theories 
and  reasons  for  and  against  his  argument;  these  he  would 
leave  later  on  Gould's  study  table. 

To  his  literary  brother,  Krehbiel,  he  discourses,  as  if 
they  were  face  to  face,  of  artistic  endeavour  and  the  larger 
life  of  the  intellect.  In  his  "jeremiads"  to  Mr.  Watkin  he 
reveals  his  most  intimate  feelings  and  sufferings;  the 
routine  of  his  daily  work  is  told  hour  by  hour.  Perpetu 
ally  standing  outside  himself,  as  it  were,  he  studies  his 
nature,  inclinations,  habits,  and  yet  never  gives  you  the 
impression  of  being  egotistical.  His  attitude  is  rather  that 
of  a  scientist  studying  an  odd  specimen.  The  intellectual 
isolation  of  his  latter  years,  passed  amongst  an  alien  race 
with  alien  views  and  beliefs,  seems  to  have  created  a  neces 
sity  for  converse  with  those  of  his  own  race  and  mode  of 
thought;  his  correspondence  with  Chamberlain  reflects  all 
his  perturbations  of  spirit — perturbations  that  he  dared  not 
confide  to  those  surrounding  him — a  record  of  illusion  and 
disillusion  with  regard  to  his  adopted  country.  The  Japa 
nese  letters,  therefore,  above  all,  have  the  charm  of  temper 
ament,  the  very  essence  of  the  man,  recorded  in  a  style  of 
remarkable  picturesqueness  and  reality. 

The  series  of  letters  to  Mrs.  Atkinson,  of  which  I  have 
been  given  possession  for  use  in  this  sketch  of  Hearn 's  life, 
have  an  entirely  different  signification  to  those  already 
referred  to.  Unfortunately  I  am  not  permitted  to  give 
them  in  their  entirety,  as  Hearn  in  his  usual  petulant, 

112 


PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 

reckless  fashion  refers  to  family  incidents,  and  speaks  of 
relations  in  a  manner  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  pub 
lish  to  the  world. 

Many  of  the  most  characteristic  passages  have  neces 
sarily,  therefore,  been  omitted;  in  spite  of  this,  there  are 
many  portions  intensely  interesting  as  a  revelation  of  a 
side  of  his  character  not  hitherto  shown  to  the  public. 
Pathetic  recurrences  to  childish  memories,  incidents  of  his 
boyhood  that  reveal  a  certain  tenderness  for  places  and 
people  which,  hitherto,  reserved  as  he  was,  he  never  had 
expressed  to  outsiders.  The  sudden  awakening  of  broth 
erly  romantic  attachment  for  his  half-sister,  and  the 
equally  sudden  break-off  of  all  communications  and  inter 
course,  are  so  thoroughly  characteristic  of  Hearn's  way 
ward  and  unaccountable  character.  How,  after  such  an 
incident,  absolve  him  of  the  charge,  so  frequently  made,  of 
caprice  and  inconstancy;  in  fact,  you  would  not  attempt 
to  defend  him  were  it  not  for  the  unwavering  friendship 
and  affection  displayed  in  one  or  two  instances;  above  all, 
in  the  unselfish  and  generous  manner  in  which  he  gave  up 
all  his  private  inclinations  and  ambitions  for  the  sake  of  his 
wife  and  family,  and  his  undeviating  devotion  to  Miss 
Bisland  (Mrs.  Wetmore),  the  Lady  of  a  Myriad  Souls,  to 
wrhom  his  most  beautiful  and  eloquent  letters  are  ad 
dressed. 

It  seems  really  to  have  only  been  during  the  last  decade 
of  his  life  that  he  allowed  irritability  and  sensitiveness  to 
interfere  between  him  and  his  best  friends.  Years  after 
he  had  left  Cincinnati,  he  recalled  the  memory  of  com 
rades  he  had  left  there ;  never  were  their  mutual  struggles 
and  aspirations  forgotten.  "It  seemeth  to  me/'  he  writes 
to  Krehbiel,  "that  I  behold  overshadowing  the  paper  the 
most  Dantesque  silhouette  of  one  who  walked  with  me  the 
streets  of  the  far-off  Western  city  by  night,  and  with  whom 
I  exchanged  ghostly  fancies  and  phantom  hopes.  .  .  . 

113 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

How  the  old  forces  have  been  scattered!  But  is  it  not 
pleasant  to  observe  that  the  members  of  the  broken  circle 
have  been  mounting  higher  and  higher  to  the  Supreme 
Hope?  Perhaps  we  may  all  meet  some  day  in  the  East 
whence,  the  legendary  word  hath  it,  'Lightning  ever  com- 
eth.'" 

He  always  remained  generously  sympathetic  to  the  liter 
ary  interests  and  ventures  of  the  "Cincinnati  Brother 
hood."  Tunison  wrote  a  book  on  the  Virgilian  Legend, 
Hearn  devotes  paragraphs,  suggesting  titles,  publishers, 
and  the  best  place  for  publication.  To  Farney,  the  artist, 
he  offers  hospitality,  if  he  will  come  to  New  Orleans  to 
paint  some  of  the  quaint  nooks  and  corners ;  and  later,  he 
recommends  him  to  Miss  Bisland  as  an  artist  whom  she 
might  employ  to  do  illustrations  for  her  magazine.  "Lazy 
as  a  serpent,  but  immensely  capable. ' ' 

Hearn  was  a  strange  mixture  of  humility  and  conceit, 
but  there  was  not  a  particle  of  literary  jealousy  in  his 
composition. 

To  Krehbiel  he  writes:  "Comparing  yourself  to  me 
won't  do  ...  dear  old  fellow!  I  am  in  most  things 
a  botch.  You  say  you  envy  me  certain  qualities ;  but  you 
forget  how  those  qualities  are  at  variance  with  an  Art 
whose  beauties  are  geometrical  and  whose  perfection  is 
mathematical.  You  envy  me  my  power  of  application, 
if  you  only  knew  the  pain  and  labour  I  have  to  create  a 
little  good  work!  And  there  are  months  when  I  cannot 
write.  It  is  not  hard  to  write  when  the  thought  is  there ; 
but  the  thought  will  not  always  come ;  there  are  weeks  when 
I  cannot  even  think. ' ' 

Though  humble  about  his  own,  he  was  intolerant  of 
amateur  art.  Comically  averse  to  criticising  his  friends' 
work,  he  implores  Mitchell  McDonald  not  to  send  him  his 
literary  efforts,  and  is  loath  even  to  express  an  opinion  on 
Miss  Bisland 's.  Reading  these  letters  containing  a  rec- 

114 


PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 

ord  of  the  manner  in  which  he  goes  to  work,  writing  and 
re-writing  until  the  thought  re-shaped  itself  and  the  style 
was  polished  and  fixed,  we  can  see  how  high  he  pitched  his 
ideal  and  how  unlikely  it  was  that  others  would  reach  the 
same  standard. 

In  one  letter,  written  in  the  fifty-third  year  of  his  age, 
to  Professor  Chamberlain,  after  thirty  years  of  literary 
work,  he,  one  of  the  most  finished  masters  of  English  prose, 
confesses  to  drudgery  worthy  of  his  boyish  days,  when 
plodding  over  an  English  composition  at  Ushaw  College. 

He  recommended  Roget's  l 'Thesaurus'7  to  a  young  au 
thor  who  asked  his  advice;  Skeat's  Dictionary,  too,  and 
Brachet  for  French,  as  books  that  give  the  subtle  sense 
of  words,  to  which  much  that  arrests  attention  in  prose 
and  poetry  are  due.  The  consciousness  of  art  gives  a  new 
faith,  he  says,  after  one  of  these  passages  of  good  advice. 
Putting  jesting  on  one  side,  he  believed  that  if  he  could 
create  something  he  knew  to  be  sublime  he  would  feel  that 
the  Unknown  Power  had  selected  him  for  a  medium  of 
utterance,  in  the  holy  cycle  of  its  eternal  purpose. 

In  consequence  of  various  opinions  and  criticisms  ex 
pressed  by  Lafcadio  Hearn  in  his  letters,  a  charge  has  been 
brought  against  him  of  showing  no  appreciation  for  the 
greater  intellectual  luminaries.  The  little  man's  personal 
prejudices  were  certainly  too  pronounced  to  make  his  a 
trustworthy  opinion,  either  upon  political  or  literary  af 
fairs.  The  mood  or  whim  of  the  moment  influenced  his 
judgment,  causing  him  often  to  commit  himself  to  state 
ments  that  must  not  be  accepted  at  the  foot  of  the  letter. 
He  admitted  that,  being  a  creature  of  extremes,  he  did  not 
see  what  existed  where  he  loved  or  hated,  and  confessed  to 
being  an  extremely  crooked  visioned  judge  of  art.  It  is 
these  whimsical  and  unexpected  revelations  of  his  own 
method  of  thought  and  artistic  theories  that  constitute  the 
charm  of  his  letters.  You  feel  as  though  you  were  passing 

115 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

through  a  varied  and  strongly  accentuated  landscape. 
You  never  know  what  will  be  revealed  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  or  round  the  next  bend  of  the  road.  In  a  delightfully 
humorous,  whimsical  passage,  he  declares  that  his  mind  to 
him  "a  kingdom  was — not!"  Rather  was  it  a  fantastical 
republic,  daily  troubled  by  more  revolutions  than  ever 
occurred  in  South  America ;  he  then  goes  on  to  enumerate 
his  possession  of  souls,  some  of  them  longing  to  live  in 
tropical  solitude,  others  in  the  bustle  of  great  cities,  others 
hating  inaction,  and  others  dwelling  in  meditative  isolation. 
He  gives  us,  in  fact,  in  this  passage  the  very  essence  of  his 
personality,  with  all  his  whims,  vagaries,  freakishness  and 
inconstancy  set  down  by  his  own  incomparable  pen. 

Things  moved  him  artistically  rather  than  critically, 
carrying  him  hither  and  thither  in  the  movement  of  every 
whispering  breeze  of  romance  and  poetry,  equally  preju 
diced  and  intolerant  in  likes  and  dislikes  of  people  and 
places  as  in  literary  affairs.  "I  had  a  sensation  the  other 
day,"  he  writes  to  Basil  Hall  Chamberlain.  "I  felt  as  if 
I  hated  Japan  unspeakably,  and  the  whole  world  seemed 
not  worth  living  in,  when  there  came  to  the  house  two 
women  to  sell  ballads.  One  took  her  samisen  and  sang; 
never  did  I  listen  to  anything  sweeter.  All  the  sorrow 
and  beauty,  all  the  pain  and  the  sweetness  of  life  thrilled 
and  quivered  in  that  voice ;  and  the  old  first  love  of  Japan 
and  of  things  Japanese  came  back,  and  a  great  tenderness 
seemed  to  fill  the  place  like  a  haunting."  * 

In  a  moment  of  petulance  he  committed  himself  to  the 
statement  that  he  could  not  endure  any  more  of  Words 
worth,  Keats,  or  Shelley,  having  learnt  the  gems  of  them 
by  heart.  He  really  thought  he  preferred  Dobson,  Watson, 
and  Lang.  It  is  generally  easy  to  trace  the  impulse  dic 
tating  the  criticism  of  the  moment.  While  he  was  writing 

i"The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  Houghton,  Miffiin 
&  Co. 

116 


PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 

the  sketch  at  Kumamoto  entitled  "The  Stone  Buddha," 
Chamberlain  lent  him  a  volume  of  Watson 's  poems — * '  The 
Dream  of  Man"  he  declared  to  be  "high  sublimity,"  be 
cause  Watson  happened  to  enunciate  philosophical  ideas 
akin  to  his  own.  Dobson  had  translated  some  poems  of 
Gautier's,  and  therefore  was  worthy  of  all  honour;  Miss 
Deland  was  "one  of  the  greatest  novelists  of  the  century," 
because  the  heroine  of  "Philip  and  His  Wife"  reminded 
him  of  Miss  Bisland.  He  pronounced  Matthew  Arnold  to 
be  1 1  one  of  the  colossal  humbugs  of  the  century ;  a  fifth-rate 
poet,  and  an  unutterably  dreary  essayist,"  because  at  the 
moment  he  was  animated  by  one  of  his  intense  enthusiasms 
for  Edwin  Arnold,  whose  acquaintance  Hearn  had  made 
during  one  of  Arnold's  visits  to  Japan.  "Far  the  nobler 
man  and  writer,  permeated  with  the  beauties  of  strong 
faiths  and  exotic  creeds;  the  spirit  that,  in  some  happier 
era,  may  bless  mankind  with  the  universal  religion  in  per 
fect  harmony  with  the  truths  of  science,  and  the  better  na 
ture  of  humanity." 

But  in  spite  of  all  his  whimsicality,  and  when  uninflu 
enced  by  pique  or  partiality,  his  criticisms  are  not  to  be 
surpassed,  here  and  there  expanding  into  an  inspired  burst 
of  enthusiasm.  On  cloudy  nights,  when  passing  through 
southern  seas,  the  waste  of  water  sometimes  spreads  like 
a  dark  metallic  surface  round  you.  A  shoal  of  fish  or  band 
of  porpoises  suddenly  comes  along;  the  surface  begins  to 
ripple  and  move ;  flakes  of  phosphorescence  shoot  here  and 
there;  illumined  streaks  flash  alongside  the  ship,  and  in  a 
few  seconds  the  undulations  of  the  waves  are  shimmering, 
a  mass  of  liquid  light.  So  in  Hearn 's  letters,  treating  the 
dullest  subjects — writing  to  Chamberlain,  for  instance,  on 
the  subject  of  his  health,  and  diet,  and  the  storage  of  physi 
cal  and  brain  force,  he  suddenly  breaks  off,  and  takes  up 
the  subject  of  Buddhism  and  Shintoism.  "There  is,  how 
ever,  a  power,  a  mighty  power,  in  tradition  and  race  feel- 

117 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ing.  I  can't  remember  now  where  I  read  a  wonderful 
story  about  a  Polish  brigade  under  fire  during  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war. ' '  Then  he  tells  the  story  in  his  own  inimi 
table  way:  "The  Polish  brigade  stood  still  under  the 
infernal  hail,  cursed  by  its  German  officers  for  the  least 
murmur, — *  Silence!  you  Polish  hogs!'  while  hundreds, 
thousands  fell,  but  the  iron  order  always  was  to  wait. 
Men  sobbed  with  rage.  At  last,  old  Steinmetz  gave  a  sig 
nal — the  signal.  The  bugles  rang  out  with  the  force  of 
Roland's  last  blast  at  Roncesvalles,  the  air  forbidden  ever 
to  be  sung  or  heard  at  other  times — the  national  air  (you 
know  it) — 'No!  Poland  is  not  dead!'  And  with  that 
crash  of  brass  all  that  lives  of  the  brigade  was  hurled  at 
the  French  batteries.  Mechanical  power,  if  absolutely  irre 
sistible,  might  fling  back  such  a  charge,  but  no  human 
power.  For  old  Steinmetz  had  made  the  mightiest  appeal 
to  those  *  Polish  brutes'  that  man,  God,  or  devil  could 
make,  the  appeal  to  the  ghost  of  the  Race.  The  dead  heard 
it;  and  they  came  back  that  day, — the  dead  of  a  thousand 
years." 

Or  again,  in  his  description  of  a  chance  hearing  of  the 
singing  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne"  by  Adelina  Patti.  He  is 
writing  in  an  ordinary  strain  on  some  everyday  subject ;  in 
the  next  paragraph  an  association  of  ideas,  connected  with 
ballad  music,  evokes  the  memory  thus  exquisitely  re 
counted  : — 

"  'Patti  is  going  to  sing  at  the  St.  Charles.'  said  a  friend 
to  me  years  ago.  *I  know  you  hate  the  theatre,  but  you 
must  go.'  (I  had  been  surfeited  with  drama  by  old  duty 
as  a  dramatic  reporter,  and  had  vowed  not  to  enter  a 
theatre  again.)  I  went.  There  was  a  great  dim  pressure, 
a  stifling  heat,  a  whispering  of  silks,  a  weight  of  toilet- 
perfumes.  Then  came  an  awful  hush ;  all  the  silks  stopped 
whispering.  And  there  suddenly  sweetened  out  through 
that  dead,  hot  air  a  clear,  cool,  tense  thread-gush  of  melody 

118 


PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 

unlike  any  sound  I  had  ever  heard  before  save,  in  tropical 
nights,  from  the  throat  of  a  mocking-bird.  It  was  'Auld 
Lang  Syne,'  only,  but  with  never  a  tremolo  or  artifice;  a 
marvellous,  audacious  simplicity  of  utterance.  The  silver 
of  that  singing  rings  in  my  heart  still. ' ' 

Amidst  the  numerous  oscillations  of  his  fancies  and  par 
tialities,  there  were  one  or  two  writers  to  whom  Hearn 
owned  an  unswerving  allegiance.  Pierre  Loti,  Herbert 
Spencer,  and  Rudyard  Kipling  were  foremost  among  these. 
Even  in  spite  of  Loti's  description  of  Japan  and  his  treat 
ment  of  Japanese  ladies  in  "  Madame  Chrysantheme, ' ' 
Hearn  retained  the  same  admiration  for  him  to  the  end. 
"Oh!  do  read  the  divine  Loti's  'Roman  d'un  Spahi.'  No 
mortal  critic,  not  even  Jules  Lemaitre  or  Anatole  France, 
can  explain  that  ineffable  and  superhuman  charm.  I  hope 
you  will  have  everything  of  Loti's.  Some  time  ago,  when 
I  was  afraid  I  might  die,  one  of  my  prospective  regrets 
was  that  I  might  not  be  able  to  read  'L'Inde  san  les 
Anglais/  .  .  ." 

Hearn  had  a  wonderful  memory — he  could  repeat  pages 
of  poetry  even  of  the  poets  he  declared  he  did  not  care 
for.  In  Japan,  Mr.  Mason  told  us  that  one  evening  at  his 
house  at  Tokyo,  when  he  was  present,  an  argument  was 
started  on  the  subject  of  Browning.  In  reply  to  some  one 's 
criticisms  on  "The  Ring  and  the  Book,"  Hearn,  to  verify 
a  statement,  repeated  passage  after  passage  from  various 
poems  of  Browning  in  his  soft  musical  voice. 

A  member  of  the  Maple  Club  also  mentioned  an  occa 
sion  when  the  subject  of  Napoleon  cropped  up.  A  little 
man  whom  no  one  noticed  at  first  sat  apart  listening.  At 
last  some  one  made  a  statement  that  roused  him;  the  in 
significant  figure  with  prominent  eyes  bent  forward  and 
poured  forth  a  flood  of  information  on  the  subject  under 
discussion  so  fluent,  so  accurate  that  the  assembled  company 
listened  in  amazement. 

119 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Hearn's  personal  characteristics  have  often  been  de 
scribed.  In  the  biographies  and  collections  of  letters  that 
have  been  given  to  the  world,  there  are  photographs  of  him 
from  the  time  when  he  was  a  little  boy  in  collegiate  jacket 
and  turned-down  collar,  to  his  last  years  in  Japan,  when 
he  nationalised  himself  a  Japanese  and  habitually  wore  the 
Japanese  kimono. 

At  New  Orleans,  past  his  thirtieth  year,  looked  upon  as 
a  writer  of  promise  by  a  cultured  few,  though  not  yet 
successful  with  the  public,  he  was  a  much  more  responsible 
and  important  person  that  the  little  ''brownie"  who  used 
to  sit  in  the  corner  of  John  Cocker-ill's  office,  turning  out 
page  after  page  of  "copy"  for  the  Cincinnati  Enquirer, 
or  doing  the  "night  stations"  for  the  Commercial.  In 
later  years,  in  consequence  of  his  sedentary  habits,  he  be 
came  corpulent  and  of  stooping  gait;  at  this  time  he  was 
about  five  feet  three  inches  in  height,  his  complexion  clear 
olive,  his  hair  straight  and  black,  his  salient  features  a 
long,  sharp,  aquiline  nose  and  prominent  near-sighted  eyes, 
the  left  one,  injured  at  Ushaw,  considerably  more  prominent 
than  the  other.  In  his  sensitive,  morbid  fashion  he  greatly 
over-exaggerated  the  disfiguring  effect  this  had  on  his  per 
sonal  appearance.  When  engaged  in  conversation,  he  ha 
bitually  held  his  hand  over  it,  and  was  always  photo 
graphed  in  profile  looking  down. 

In  some  ways  the  Hearn  type  was  very  visible,  the  square 
brow  and  well-shaped  head  and  finely-modelled  mouth  and 
chin.  He  also  inherited  the  delicate,  filbert-nailed  hands 
(always  exquisitely  kept)  and  the  musical  voice  of  his 
Celtic  forbears.  One  of  his  pupils  at  Tokyo  University 
speaks  of  the  "voice  of  the  old  professor  with  one  eye, 
and  white  hair,  being  as  lovely  as  his  words."  Professor 
Foxwell  who  made  his  acquaintance  in  Japan,  gives  the 
following  account  of  his  personal  manner  in  his  delightful 
"Reminiscences  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  read  before  the  Japan 

120 


PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 

Society  in  London:  "I  had  just  recovered  from  small 
pox  when  I  first  met  Hearn,  and  must  have  been  an  ex 
traordinary  object.  My  face,  to  begin  with,  was  the  colour 
of  beetroot.  Hearn  took  not  the  least  notice ;  seemed  hardly 
to  notice  my  appearance.  This  fact  impressed  me  very 
much,  and  when  I  knew  him  better  I  found  that  the  same 
wide  tolerance  of  mind  ran  through  all  his  thoughts  and 
actions.  It  might  have  been  tact,  but  nothing  seemed  to 
surprise  him.  It  was  as  if  he  had  lived  too  much  to  be 
surprised  at  anything.  He  seemed  to  me  on  that  particular 
morning,  and  whenever  I  met  him  afterwards,  to  be  the 
most  natural,  unaffected,  companionable  person  I  had  ever 
come  across.  Secondly,  I  thought  he  was  extraordinarily 
gentle,  more  gentle  than  a  woman,  since  it  was  not  a  physi 
cal  gentleness,  but  a  gentleness  of  thought.  You  noticed  it 
in  his  tone,  in  his  voice,  in  his  manner.  He  had  a  mind 
which  worked  with  velvet  or  gossamer  touch.  Thirdly,  in 
spite  of  that  softness  and  gentleness,  he  looked  intensely 
male.  You  could  see  that  in  his  eye,  and  you  would  feel 
it  in  the  quiet  mastery  of  every  sentence.  And  fourthly, 
he  seemed  to  be,  unlike  most  foreigners,  altogether  at  home 
in  Japan.  He  appeared  to  have  come  into  smooth  water, 
placid  and  unconcerned.  Yet  I  found  him  essentially  Eu 
ropean,  in  spite  of  his  being  so  at  home  in  Japan.  You 
could  see  that  from  his  very  great  fairness  of  complexion, 
tense  facial  expression,  and  delicate  susceptibility.  That 
was  obvious.  Then  his  nose  settled  it.  It  struck  me  at 
the  time  as  curious  that  a  foreigner  so  eager  to  interpret 
Japan  should  be  himself  so  occidental  in  appearance.  An 
other  point  with  regard  to  this  first  meeting :  our  acquaint 
ance  lasted  for  three  years,  but  I  do  not  think  I  knew  him 
any  better  or  any  more  at  the  end  than  I  did  at  that  first 
meeting. ' ' 

Hearn  was  as  unconventional  in  his  dress  as  in  most 
things,  deliberately  protesting  against  social  restrictions  in 

121 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

his  personal  attire.  Shy,  diffident  people,  who  above  all 
things  wish  to  avoid  attracting  attention,  seem  so  often 
to  forget  that  if  they  would  only  garb  themselves  like  the 
rest  of  the  world  it  would  be  the  best  disguise  they  could 
adopt.  The  jeers  and  laughter  of  the  passers-by  in  the 
streets  of  Philadelphia,  even  the  fact  that  a  number  of 
street  gamins  formed  a  queue,  the  leader  holding  by  his 
coat-tails  while  they  kept  in  step,  singing,  "  Where,  where 
did  you  get  that  hat?"  had  not  any  effect,  Gould  tells  us, 
in  inducing  him  to  substitute  conventional  headgear  for 
the  enormous  tropical  straw  hat,  or  the  reefer  coat  and 
flannel  shirt,  that  he  habitually  wore. 

Mr.  Mason,  in  Japan,  told  us,  that  Hearn  boasted  of  not 
having  worn  a  starched  shirt  for  twenty  years.  In  fact, 
he  looked  upon  white  shirts  as  a  proof  of  the  greater  facility 
of  life  in  the  East,  where  they  don't  wear  white  shirts, 
than  the  ease  of  life  in  the  West,  where  they  do.  l  i  Think 
for  a  moment,"  he  says  in  one  of  his  essays,  "how  im 
portant  an  article  of  occidental  attire  is  the  single  costly 
item  of  white  shirts!  Yet  even  the  linen  shirt,  the  so- 
called  *  badge  of  the  gentleman,'  is  in  itself  a  useless  gar 
ment.  It  gives  neither  warmth  nor  comfort.  It  repre 
sents  in  our  fashion  the  survival  of  something,  once  a 
luxurious  class  distinction,  but  to-day  meaningless  and  use 
less  as  the  buttons  sewn  on  the  outside  of  coat-sleeves." 

In  spite  of  the  unconventionality  of  his  garments,  every 
one  is  unanimous  as  to  Hearn 's  radiant  physical  cleanli 
ness,  constantly  bathing  winter  and  summer  and  changing 
his  clothes  two  or  three  times  a  day.  His  wife,  in  her 
"Reminiscences,"  mentions  his  fastidiousness  on  the  sub 
ject  of  underclothing.  Everything  was  ordered  from 
America,  except  his  Japanese  kimonos  and  "fudos."  He 
paid  high  prices,  and  would  have  nothing  that  was  not  of 
the  best  make  and  quality. 

In  later  years  he  was  described  by  an  acquaintance  in 

122 


PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 

Japan  as  an  odd,  nondescript  apparition,  with  near-sighted 
eyes,  a  soft,  well-modulated  voice,  speaking  several  lan 
guages  easily,  particularly  dainty  and  clean  in  his  person, 
and  of  considerable  personal  influence  and  charm  when  you 
came  in  contact  with  him. 


123 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE   LADY   OF   A  MYRIAD   SOULS 

"The  lady  wore  her  souls  as  other  women  wear  their  dresses  and 
change  them  several  times  a  day ;  and  the  multitude  of  dresses  in  the 
wardrobe  of  Queen  Elizabeth  was  as  nothing  to  the  multitude  of  this 
wonderful  person's  souls.  Sometimes  she  was  of  the  South,  and  her 
eyes  were  brown;  and  again  she  was  of  the  North,  and  her  eyes  were 
grey.  Sometimes  she  was  of  the  thirteenth,  and  sometimes  of  the 
eighteenth  century;  and  people  doubted  their  own  senses  when  they 
saw  these  things  .  .  .  and  the  men  who  most  admired  her  could 
not  presume  to  fall  in  love  with  her  because  that  would  have  been 
absurd.  She  had  altogether  too  many  souls." 

THE  year  1882  was  a  memorable  one  for  Laf cadio  Hearn ; 
during  the  course  of  that  winter  the  purest  and  most  bene 
ficent  feminine  influence  that  he  had  hitherto  known  en 
tered  his  life,  an  influence  destined  to  last  for  close  on  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  from  these  New  Orleans  days  until  the 
month  of  September,  1904,  when  he  died. 

In  all  the  annals  of  literary  friendships  between  men  and 
women,  it  is  difficult  to  recall  one  more  delightful  or  more 
wholly  satisfactory  than  this,  between  Miss  Elizabeth  Bis- 
land  (Mrs.  Wetmore)  and  the  strange  little  Irish  genius. 

Many  beautiful  things  has  Lafcadio  Hearn  written,  but 
none  more  tender,  none  more  beautiful,  than  the  story  of 
his  devotion  and  friendship,  as  told  in  his  letters. 

The  affection  between  Jean  Jacques  Ampere  and  Madame 
Recamier  is  the  one  that  perhaps  most  nearly  approaches 
it.  Here,  however,  the  position  is  reversed.  Madame  Re 
camier  was  a  decade  older  than  her  admirer;  Elizabeth 
Bisland  was  a  decade  younger.  Yet  there  always  seems 

124 


THE  LADY  OF  A  MYRIAD  SOULS 

to  have  been  something  maternal,  protecting,  in  her  affec 
tion  for  this  ' '  veritable  blunderer  in  the  ways  of  the  world. ' ' 
Her  comprehension,  her  pity,  shielded  and  guarded  him; 
into  his  wounded  heart  she  poured  the  balm  of  affection 
and  appreciation,  soothing  and  healing  the  bruises  given 
him  in  the  tussle  of  life. 

Link  by  link  we  follow  the  sentiment  that  Lafcadio 
Hearn  cherished  for  Miss  Bisland,  as  it  runs,  an  untarnished 
chain  of  gold,  athwart  his  life.  Through  separation, 
through  distances  of  thousands  of  miles,  the  unwavering 
understanding  remained,  a  simple,  definite,  and  dependa 
ble  thing,  never  at  fault,  except  once  or  twice,  when  the 
clear  surface  was  disturbed,  apparently  by  the  expression 
of  too  warm  a  sentiment  on  his  side. 

" There  is  one  very  terrible  Elizabeth,"  he  writes  to  Ell- 
wood  Hendrik  from  Japan,  in  reference  to  Miss  Bisland 's 
marriage  to  Mr.  Wetmore,  "whom  I  had  a  momentary 
glimpse  of  once,  and  whom  it  will  not  be  well  for  Mr.  W. 
or  anybody  else  to  summon  from  her  retirement. ' ' 

Time  and  again  he  returned  to  his  friend  as  to  his  own 
purer,  better  self,  though  he  seems  to  have  had  a  pathetic, 
sad-hearted,  clear-eyed  conviction  that  her  love — as  love  is 
understood  in  common  parlance — could  never  be  his. 

And  she,  doubtless,  acknowledged  there  was  something 
intangible  and  rare  in  the  feeling  she  nourished  for  him 
that  raised  it  above  that  of  mere  friendship.  Whatever 
he  had  been,  whatever  he  had  done,  she  cared  not ;  she  only 
knew  that  he  had  genius  far  above  any  of  those  amongst 
whom  her  lines  had  hitherto  been  cast,  and,  with  tre 
mendous  odds  against  him,  was  offering  up  burnt-offerings 
on  the  altar  of  the  shrine  where  she,  as  a  neophyte,  also 
worshipped. 

Miss  Elizabeth  Bisland  was  the  daughter  of  a  Louisiana 
landowner,  ruined,  like  many  others,  in  the  war.  With 

125 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  idea  of  aiding  her  family  by  the  proceeds  of  her  pen, 
the  young  girl  quitted  the  seclusion  of  her  parents'  house 
in  the  country  and  bravely  entered  the  arena  of  journalistic 
work  in  New  Orleans. 

Hearn  at  that  time  was  regularly  working  on  the  staff 
of  the  Times  Democrat.  The  faithfulness  of  his  transla 
tions  from  the  French,  and  the  beauty  of  the  style  of  some 
of  his  contributions,  had  found  an  appreciative  circle  in  the 
Crescent  City,  and  a  clique  had  been  formed  of  what  were 
known  as  " Hearn 's  admirers." 

His  translations  from  Gautier,  Maupassant,  "  Stray 
Leaves  from  Strange  Literature,"  all  appeared  in  the  col 
umns  of  Page  Baker's  newspaper.  He  also,  under  the  title 
of  ' '  Fantastics, "  contributed  every  now  and  then  slight 
sketches  inspired  by  his  French  prototypes.  Dreams,  he 
called  them,  of  a  tropical  city,  with  one  twin  idea  running 
through  them  all — love  and  death.  They  gave  him  the 
gratification  of  expressing  a  thought  that  cried  out  within 
his  heart  for  utterance,  and  the  pleasant  fancy  that  a  few 
kindred  minds  would  dream  over  them  as  upon  pellets  of 
green  hashisch. 

One  of  these  was  inspired  by  Tennyson's  verse — 

"My  heart  would  hear  her  and  beat 
Had  I  lain  for  a  century  dead; — 
Would  start  and  tremble  under  her  feet, 
And  blossom  in  purple  and  red." 

The  sketch  appeared  apparently  in  the  columns  of  the 
Times  Democrat.  There  Miss  Bisland  saw  it,  and  in  the 
enthusiasm  of  her  seventeen  years,  wrote  an  appreciative 
letter  to  the  author.  By  chance  the  "Fantastic"  was  re 
covered  from  his  later  correspondence.  Writing  to 
Mitchell  McDonald  years  afterwards  in  Japan,  we  find 
Hearn  referring  to  the  expression  "Lentor  Inexpressible." 
"I  am  going  to  change  'Lentor  Inexpressible,'  which  you 

126 


THE  LADY  OF  A  MYRIAD  SOULS 

did  not  like.  I  send  you  a  copy  of  the  story  in  which  I 
first  used  it — years  and  years  ago.  Don 't  return  the  thing 
— it  has  had  its  day.  It  belongs  to  the  Period  of  Gush. ' ' 

Mitchell  McDonald,  we  imagine,  obeyed  his  injunction, 
and  did  not  return  the  "Fantastic,"  but  laid  it  away 
amongst  his  papers,  and  so  "A  Dead  Love"  has  been  saved 
for  re-publication.  It  certainly  is  crude  enough  to  deserve 
the  designation  of  belonging  to  the  " Period  of  Gush,"  and 
is  distinguished  by  all  the  weakness  and  none  of  the 
strength  of  the  French  Impressionist  school. 

The  idea  of  the  spirit  conquering  material  obstacles,  a 
longing  for  the  unattainable,  the  exceptional  in  life  and  na 
ture,  to  the  extent  even  of  continued  sensibility  after  death, 
are  phases  of  thought  that  permeate  every  line,  and  may 
be  found  in  two  of  Gautier's  stories  translated  by  Hearn, 
and  in  several  of  Baudelaire's  poems. 

A  young  man  weary  of  life  because  of  the  hopelessness 
of  his  love,  yielded  it  up  at  last,  dying  with  the  name  of 
the  beloved  on  his  lips.  .  .  .  Yet  the  repose  of  the  dead 
was  not  for  him;  even  in  the  tomb  the  phantom  man 
dreamed  of  life,  and  strength,  and  joy,  and  the  litheness 
of  limbs  to  be  loved :  also  of  that  which  had  been  and  of  that 
which  now  could  never  be.  .  .  .  Years  came  and  went 
with  "Lentor  Inexpressible,"  but  for  the  dead  there  was 
no  rest  .  .  .  the  echoes  of  music  and  laughter,  the 
chanting  and  chattering  of  children  at  play,  and  the  liquid 
babble  of  the  beautiful  brown  women  floated  to  his  ears. 
And  at  last  it  came  to  pass  that  the  woman  whose  name 
had  been  murmured  by  his  lips  when  the  shadow  of  death 
fell  upon  him,  visited  the  ancient  place  of  sepulture,  he 
recognised  the  sound  of  her  footstep,  the  rustle  of  her  gar 
ments,  knew  the  sweetness  of  her  presence,  but  she,  uncon 
scious,  passed  by,  and  the  sound  of  her  footsteps  died  away 
forever. 

Hearn,  at  the  time  he  first  met  Elizabeth  Bisland,  was 

127 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

going  through  a  period  of  depression  about  his  work,  and 
a  hatred  of  New  Orleans.  The  problem  of  existence,  he 
said,  stared  him  in  the  face  with  eyes  of  iron.  Inde 
pendence  was  so  hard  to  obtain;  there  was  no  scope  for  a 
man  who  preserved  freedom  of  thought  and  action — ab 
solute  quiet,  silence,  dreams,  friends  in  the  evening,  a  pipe, 
a  little  philosophy,  was  his  idea  of  perfect  bliss.  As  he 
was  situated  at  the  time,  he  could  not  obtain  even  a  woman 's 
society,  he  complained,  unless  he  buried  himself  in  the 
mediocrity  to  which  she  belonged. 

Twenty  years  later,  writing  to  Mrs.  Wetmore  (as  Miss 
Elizabeth  Bisland  had  become),  he  refers  to  those  first 
years  of  friendship  in  the  strange  old  city  of  New  Orleans. 
He  recalls  to  her  memory  her  dangerous  illness,  and  peo 
ple's  fear  that  she  might  die  in  the  quaint  little  hotel 
where  she  was  stopping.  Impossible,  he  said,  to  think  of 
that  young  girl  as  a  grey-haired  woman  of  forty.  His 
memory  was  of  a  voice  and  a  thought,  une  jeune  file  un  peu 
farouche  (no  English  word  could  give  the  same  sense  of 
shyness  and  force),  "who  came  into  New  Orleans  from  the 
country,  and  wrote  nice  things  for  a  paper  there,  and  was 
so  kind  to  a  particular  variety  of  savage,  that  he  could  not 
understand — and  was  afraid."  But  all  this  was  long  ago, 
he  concludes  regretfully;  " since  then  I  have  become  grey 
and  the  father  of  three  boys." 

For  the  greater  part  of  Lafcadio  Hearn's  and  Elizabeth 
Bisland 's  friendship  they  seem  to  have  occupied  towards 
one  another  the  position  of  literary  brother  and  sister. 
From  the  very  beginning  he  tried  to  induce  her  to  share 
his  literary  enthusiasm.  With  that  odd  social  unconven- 
tionality  that  distinguished  him,  he  endeavoured  to  make 
this  young  girl  of  eighteen  sympathise  with  his  admiration 
of  the  artistic  beauties  of  Flaubert  and  Gautier.  Sending 
a  volume  of  Gau tier's  poems,  he  writes:  "I  won't  pre 
sume  to  offer  you  this  copy ;  it  is  too  shabby,  has  travelled 

128 


THE  LADY  OF  A  MYRIAD  SOULS 

about  with  me  in  all  sorts  of  places  for  eight  years.  But 
if  you  are  charmed  by  this  'parfait  magicien  des  lettres 
franchises'  (as  Beaudelaire  called  him)  I  hope  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  offering  you  a  nicer  copy.  .  .  ." 

Years  afterwards  he  refers  to  literary  obligations  that 
he  owed  her,  mentioning  evening  chats  in  her  New  York 
flat,  when  the  sound  of  her  voice,  low  and  clear,  and  at 
times  like  a  flute,  was  in  his  ear.  "The  gods  only  know 
what  I  said;  for  my  thoughts  in  those  times  were  seldom 
in  the  room — but  in  the  future,  which  was  black  without 
stars !" 

In  1884  Hearn  went  to  Grande  Isle,  in  the  Archipelago 
of  the  Gulf,  for  his  summer  holiday.  Miss  Bisland  would 
appear  to  have  been  there  at  the  same  time,  yet  with  that 
half-tamed,  barbaric,  incomprehensible  nature  of  his,  his 
fancy  seems  to  have  been  turned  rather  towards  the  copper- 
coloured  ladies  of  Barataria.  * '  A  beauty  that  existed  in  the 
Tertiary  epoch — three  hundred  thousand  years  ago.  The 
beauty  of  the  most  ancient  branch  of  humanity. ' ' 

It  was  during  this  visit  to  Grande  Isle  that  the  story  of 
" Chita"  was  written  and  contributed  to  Harper's  Magazine 
under  the  title  of  "Torn  Letters." 

We  know  not  at  what  date  Miss  Bisland  left  New  Or 
leans  to  go  to  New  York.  One  thing  only  is  certain,  that 
so  firm  a  spiritual  hold  had  she  taken  of  Lafcadio  Hearn 's 
genius  that  no  distance  of  space  nor  spite  of  circumstance 
could  separate  her  intellect  from  his.  Like  a  delicious 
and  subtle  perfume,  wafted  from  some  garden  close,  her 
presence  meets  you  as  you  pass  from  letter  to  letter  in 
his  correspondence;  from  chapter  to  chapter  of  his 
books.  Far  or  near,  dear  to  her  or  indifferent,  the 
memory  of  her  smile  and  the  light  of  her  eyes  were  hence 
forth  his  best  inspiration.  Thousands  of  miles  away 
in  the  Far  East  it  stimulated  his  genius  and  quickened 
his  pen. 

129 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

I,  who  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  the  "Lady  of  a 
Myriad  Souls"  when  she  visited  England  a  short  time  ago, 
could  not  help  marvelling,  as  I  looked  at  her,  and  talked 
to  her,  dainty  and  beautiful  as  she  was  in  lace  and  dia 
monds,  at  the  irony  of  the  dictates  of  fate,  or  Karma  (as 
he,  Buddhist-wise,  would  have  called  it),  that  had  ordained 
that  hers  was  to  be  the  ascendant  influence  in  the  life  of 
Lafcadio  Hearn — the  Bohemian,  who,  by  his  own  confession, 
had  for  a  decade  never  dressed  for  dinner,  or  put  on  a 
starched  collar  or  shirt  front. 

In  New  York  Miss  Bisland  became  joint-editor  of  a  mag 
azine  called  the  Cosmopolitan,  apd  after  Hearn 's  arrival 
in  June,  1887,  a  frequent  correspondence  was  kept  up  be 
tween  them  on  literary  matters. 

She  solicited  contributions,  apparently,  and  he  answered : 
"I  don't  think  I  can  write  anything  clever  enough  to  be. 
worthy  your  using.  But  it  is  a  pleasure  you  should  think  so. 
.  .  .  My  work,  however  weak,  is  so  much  better  than 
myself  that  the  less  said  about  me  the  better.  .  .  .  Your 
own  personality  has  charm  enough  to  render  the  truth  very 
palatable.  .  .  .  Does  a  portrait  of  an  ugly  man  make 
one  desirous  to  read  his  books  ? 

".  .  .  I  will  try  to  give  you  something  for  the  Christ 
mas  number  anyhow,  but  not  very  long. ' '  He  then  goes  on 
to  set  forth  a  theory  that  seems  at  this  time  rather  to  have 
influenced  his  literary  output.  With  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury,  he  believed  that  the  long  novel  would  pass  out  of 
existence ;  three-quarters  of  what  was  written  was  unneces 
sary,  evolved  simply  out  of  obedience  to  effete  formulas 
and  standards.  The  secret  of  the  prose  fiction  "that  lives 
through  the  centuries,  like  the  old  Greek  romances,  is  con 
densation,  the  expression  of  feeling  in  a  few  laconic 
sentences.  .  .  .  No  descriptions,  no  preliminaries,  no 
explanation — nothing  but  the  feeling  itself  at  highest  in 
tensity."  As  is  so  often  the  case,  this  opinion  expressed 

130 


THE  LADY  OF  A  MYRIAD  SOULS 

in  a  letter  is  a  running  commentary  on  the  work  he  was 
doing  at  the  moment.  * '  Chita, ' '  the  longest  work  of  fiction 
he  ever  attempted,  had  appeared  serially  in  Harper's  Mag 
azine,  and  he  was  occupied  in  reconstructing  it  in  book 
form.  It  certainly  has  feeling  at  highest  intensity  and 
no  diffuseness,  but  it  lacks  the  delicate  touches,  the  indica 
tions  of  character  by  small  incidents,  and  realistic  details, 
that  render  Pierre  Loti's  novels,  for  instance,  so  vividly 
actual  and  accurate.  It  is  strong  to  the  highest  emotional 
pitch,  and  some  of  the  descriptions  are  marvellous,  but  the 
book  gives  the  impression  of  being  fragmentary  and  un 
finished. 

After  two  years  of  exclusive  intellectual  communion  and 
discussion  of  literary  matters  between  Lafcadio  Hearn  and 
Miss  Bisland,  he  suddenly,  writing  from  Philadelphia,  de 
clares  his  intention  of  never  addressing  her  as  Miss  Bisland 
again  except  upon  an  envelope. 

*  *  It  is  a  formality — and  you  are  you ;  and  you  are  not  a 
formality — but  a  somewhat — and  I  am  only  I. "  1 

After  this  the  personal  note  becomes  predominant,  and 
Miss  Bisland  ceases,  even  on  paper,  to  be  a  formality  in 
Lafcadio  Hearn 's  emotional  life. 

During  the  course  of  the  same  summer,  Hearn  went  to 
the  West  Indies  for  his  three  months'  midsummer  trip. 
From  thence  he  wrote  one  or  two  delightful  letters  to  the 
Lady  of  a  Myriad  Souls.  In  the  same  year  he  was  again 
in  New  York,  but  almost  immediately  accepted  an  offer 
made  to  him  by  the  Harpers  to  return  to  the  West  Indies 
for  two  years. 

The  following  letter  tells  its  own  tale,  and  so  daintily 
and  pathetically  that  one  does  not  feel  as  if  one  could 
change  a  word  :— 

i"The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co. 

131 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

"Your  letter  reached  me  when  everything  that  had 
seemed  solid  was  breaking  up,  and  Substance  had  become 
Shadow.  It  made  me  very  foolish — made  me  cry.  Your 
rebuke  for  the  trivial  phrase  in  my  letter  was  very  beau 
tiful  as  well  as  very  richly  deserved.  But  I  don't  think 
it  is  a  question  of  volition.  It  is  necessary  to  obey  the 
impulses  of  the  Unknown  for  Art's  sake, — or  rather,  you 
must  obey  them.  The  Spahi's  fascination  by  the  invisible 
forces  was  purely  physical.  I  think  I  am  right  in  going; 
perhaps  I  am  wrong  in  thinking  of  making  the  tropics  a 
home.  Probably  it  will  be  the  same  thing  over  again: 
impulse  and  chance  compelling  another  change. 

"The  carriage — no,  the  New  York  hack  and  hackman 
(no  romance  or  sentimentality  about  these!)  is  waiting  to 
take  me  to  Pier  49  East  River.  So  I  must  end.  But  I 
have  written  such  a  ridiculous  letter  that  I  shan  't  put  any 
body  's  name  to  it. ' '  * 

In  1889  he  again  returned  to  America,  and  went  for 
his  famous  visit  to  George  Milbury  Gould  at  Philadel 
phia. 

On  November  14th  of  the  same  year  Miss  Bisland  re 
ceived  a  request  to  call  at  the  office  of  the  Cosmopolitan 
Magazine.  On  her  arrival  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  she  was  asked  if  she  would  leave  New  York  for  San 
Francisco  the  same  evening  for  a  seventy-five  days'  jour 
ney  round  the  world.  The  proposition  was  that  she  should 
"run"  in  competition  with  another  lady  sent  by  a  rival 
magazine  for  a  wager.  Miss  Bisland  consented. 

After  her  return,  under  the  title  of  "A  Trip  Around 
the  World,"  she  published  her  experiences  in  the  Cosmo 
politan  Magazine.  These  contributions  were  afterwards  in 
corporated  in  a  small  volume.  They  are  charmingly  and 
brightly  written.  She,  however,  did  not  win  her  wager, 

i"The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&Co. 

132 


THE  LADY  OF  A  MYRIAD  SOULS 

as  the  other  lady  completed  the  task  in  a  slightly  shorter 
period. 

Before  he  knew  of  the  projected  journey,  Lafcadio  wrote 
to  tell  her  that  he  had  had  a  queer  dream.  A  garden  with 
high  clipped  hedges,  in  front  of  a  sort  of  country  house 
with  steps  leading  down  and  everywhere  hampers  and 
baskets.  Krehbiel  was  there,  starting  for  Europe,  never  to 
return.  He  could  not  remember  what  anybody  said  pre 
cisely,  voices  were  never  audible  in  dreams. 

In  his  next  letter  he  alludes  to  his  imaginings.  "So  it 
was  you  and  not  I,  that  was  to  run  away.  .  .  .  When 
I  saw  the  charming  notice  about  you  in  the  Tribune  there 
suddenly  came  back  to  me  the  same  vague  sense  of  un- 
happiness  I  had  dreamed  of  feeling, — an  absurd  sense  of 
absolute  loneliness.  ...  I  and  my  friends  have  been 
wagering  upon  you  hoping  for  you  to  win  your  race — so 
that  every  one  may  admire  you  still  more,  and  your  name 
flash  round  the  world  quicker  than  the  sunshine,  and  your 
portrait — in  spite  of  you — appear  in  some  French  journal 
where  they  know  how  to  engrave  portraits  properly.  I 
thought  I  might  be  able  to  coax  one  from  you ;  but  as  you 
are  never  the  same  person  two  minutes  in  succession,  I  am 
partly  consoled;  it  would  only  be  one  small  phase  of  you, 
Proteus,  Circe,  Undine,  Djineeyeh!  .  .  ." 

I  do  not  think  that  amidst  all  the  letters  of  poets  or 
writers  there  are  any  more  original  or  passionately  poignant 
than  the  last  two  or  three  of  the  series  in  Miss  Bisland's 
first  volume  of  Hearn's  letters.  It  seems  almost  like  tear 
ing  one  of  Heine's  Lyrics  to  pieces  to  endeavour  to  give  the 
substance  of  these  fanciful  and  exquisite  outpourings  in 
any  words  but  his  own.  Again  and  again  he  recurs  to  his 
favourite  idea  of  the  multiplicity  of  souls.  Turn  by  turn, 
he  says,  one  or  other  of  the  "dead  within  her"  floats  up 
from  the  depth  within,  transfiguring  her  face. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  all  those  mysterious  lives  within 

133 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

you — all  the  Me's  that  were — keep  asking  the  Me  that  is, 
for  something  always  refused; — and  that  you  keep  saying 
to  them:  'But  you  are  dead  and  cannot  see — you  can  only 
feel;  and  I  can  see, — and  I  will  not  open  to  you,  because 
the  world  is  all  changed.  You  would  not  know  it,  and 
you  would  be  angry  with  me  were  I  to  grant  your  wish. 
Go  to  your  places,  and  sleep  and  wait,  and  leave  me  in 
peace  with  myself. '  But  they  continue  to  wake  up  betimes, 
and  quiver  into  momentary  visibility  to  make  you  divine 
in  spite  of  yourself, — and  as  suddenly  flit  away  again.  I 
wish  one  would  come — and  stay :  the  one  I  saw  that  night 
when  we  were  looking  at  ...  what  was  it? 

"Keally,  I  can't  remember  what  it  was :  the  smile  effaced 
the  memory  of  it, — just  as  a  sun-ray  blots  the  image  from 
a  dry-plate  suddenly  exposed.  .  .  .  Will  you  ever  be 
like  that  always  for  any  one  being? — I  hope  you  will  get 
my  book  before  you  go ;  it  will  be  sent  on  Tuesday  at  latest, 
I  think.  I  don't  know  whether  you  will  like  the  paper; 
but  you  will  only  look  for  the  'gnat  of  a  soul'  that  belongs 
to  me  between  the  leaves." 

Soon  after  the  return  of  the  lady  of  his  dreams  from 
her  "trip  around  the  world,"  Hearn  left  for  the  Far  East, 
where  he  lived  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  He  wrote  to  her 
once  or  twice  after  his  arrival  in  Japan,  and  then  a  long, 
long  interval  intervened.  He  married  a  Japanese  lady, 
and  she  married  Mr.  Wetmore. 

Not  until  1900  were  all  the  long  estranging  years  that 
lay  between  the  time  when  he  had  last  seen  her  in  New 
York  and  the  period  of  his  professorship  at  a  Japanese 
college  forgotten,  and  he  fell  back  on  the  simple  human 
affection  of  their  early  intercourse.  No  longer  did  he  think 
of  her  as  the  rich,  beautiful,  fashionable  woman,  but  as 
the  jeune  file  un  pen  farouche,  who  in  distant  New  Or 
leans  days  had  understood  and  expressed  a  belief  in  his 
genius  with  all  a  girl's  unsophisticated  enthusiasm.  She 

134 


THE  LADY  OF  A  MYRIAD  SOULS 

had  written  to  him,  and  he  gives  her  a  whimsically  pathetic 
answer,  touching  on  memories,  on  thoughts,  on  aspirations, 
which  had  been  a  closed  book  for  so  long  a  period  of  time, 
and  now,  when  re-opened,  was  seen  to  be  printed  as  clearly 
on  mind  and  heart  as  if  he  had  parted  with  her  but  an  hour 
before. 

About  a  dozen  letters  succeed  one  another,  and  in  Sep 
tember,  1904 — the  month  in  which  he  died — comes  his 
last.  He  tells  her  that  to  see  her  handwriting  again,  upon 
the  familiar  blue  envelope,  was  a  great  pleasure;  except 
that  the  praise  she  lavished  upon  him  was  undeserved. 
He  then  refers  to  the  dedication  of  the  "  Japanese  Mis 
cellany"  which  he  had  made  to  her.  "The  book  is  not 
a  bad  book  in  its  way,  and  perhaps  you  will  later  on  find 
no  reason  to  be  sorry  for  your  good  opinions  of  the  writer. 
I  presume  that  you  are  far  too  clever  to  believe  more 
than  truth,  and  I  stand  tolerably  well  in  the  opinion  of 
a  few  estimable  people  in  spite  of  adverse  tongues  and 
pens.  .  .  ." 

He  then  tells  her  that  the  "Rejected  Addresses, "  the 
name  in  writing  to  her  he  had  given  to  "Japan,  an  Inter 
pretation,  "  would  shortly  appear  in  book  form.  .  .  . 
"I  don't  like  the  idea  of  writing  a  serious  treatise  on  so 
ciology  ;  I  ought  to  keep  to  the  study  of  birds  and  cats  and 
insects  and  flowers,  and  queer  small  things — and  leave  the 
subject  of  the  destiny  of  Empires  to  men  of  brains.  Un 
fortunately,  the  men  of  brains  will  not  state  the  truth 
as  they  see  it.  If  you  find  any  good  in  the  book,  despite 
the  conditions  under  which  it  was  written,  you  will  recog 
nise  your  share  in  the  necessarily  ephemeral  value  thereof. 

"May  all  good  things  ever  come  to  you,  and  abide." 

It  is  said  by  many,  especially  those  who  knew  Hearn  in 
later  years,  that  he  was  heartless,  capricious,  incapable  of 
constancy  to  any  affection  or  sentiment,  and  yet,  set  forth 
so  that  all  "who  run  may  read,"  is  this  record  of  a  devotion 

135 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

and  friendship,  cherished  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  last 
ing  intact  through  fair  years  and  foul,  through  absence, 
change  of  scene,  even  of  nationality. 

"Fear  not,  I  say  again ;  believe  it  true 
That  not  as  men  mete  shall  I  measure  you.     .    .    ." 

Time,  besides  his  scythe  and  hour-glass,  carries  an  ac 
curate  gauge  for  the  estimation  of  human  character  and 
genius. 


136 


CHAPTER  XIII 
RELIGION   AND   SCIENCE 

"For  the  Buddha  of  the  deeper  Buddhism  is  not  Gautama,  nor  yet 
any  one  Tathagata,  but  simply  the  divine  in  man.  Chrysalides  of  the 
infinite  we  all  are:  each  contains  a  ghostly  Buddha,  and  the  millions 
are  but  one.  All  humanity  is  potentially  the  Buddha-to-come,  dream 
ing  through  the  ages  in  Illusion;  and  the  teacher's  smile  will  make 
beautiful  the  world  again  when  selfishness  shall  die.  Every  noble 
sacrifice  brings  the  hour  of  his  awakening;  and  who  may  justly 
doubt — remembering  the  myriads  of  the  centuries  of  man — that  even 
now  there  does  not  remain  one  place  on  earth  where  life  has  not  been 
freely  given  for  love  or  duty?" 

THOUGH  some  years  were  yet  to  elapse  before  Hearn  re 
ceived  his  definite  marching  orders,  each  halt  was  hut  a 
bivouac  nearer  the  field  of  operations  where  effective  work 
and  fame  awaited  him. 

"Have  wild  theories  about  Japan/'  he  writes  propheti 
cally  to  Mr.  Watkin.  "Splendid  field  in  Japan — a  climate 
just  like  England — perhaps  a  little  milder.  Plenty  of  Eu 
ropean  and  English  newspapers.  .  .  ."  And  again,  "I 
have  half  a  mind  to  study  medicine  in  practical  earnest, 
for  as  a  doctor  I  may  do  well  in  Japan. " 

When  the  New  Orleans  Exposition  was  opened  in  1885, 
Harpers,  the  publishers — who  had  already  sent  Hearn  on 
a  tour  in  Florida  with  an  artist  of  their  staff— now  made 
an  arrangement  with  him,  by  which  he  was  to  supply  de 
scriptive  articles,  varied  by  sketches  and  drawings,  copied 
from  photographs,  of  the  principal  exhibits. 

On  January  3rd,  Hearn 's  first  article  appeared  in  Har 
per's  Weekly.  In  it  he  describes  the  fans,  the  kakemonos, 

137 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  screens  in  the  Japanese  department.  Long  lines  of 
cranes  flying  against  a  vermilion  sky,  a  flight  of  gulls 
sweeping  through  the  golden  light  of  a  summer  morning; 
the  heavy,  eccentric,  velvety  flight  of  bats  under  the  moon ; 
the  fairy  hovering  of  moths,  of  splendid  butterflies;  the 
modelling  and  painting  of  animal  forms,  the  bronzed  tor 
toises,  crabs,  storks,  frogs,  not  mere  copies  of  nature,  but 
exquisite  idealisations  stirred  his  artistic  sense  as  did  also 
the  representations  of  the  matchless  mountain  Fuji-no- 
yama — of  which  the  artist,  Houkousai,  alone  drew  one  hun 
dred  different  views,  on  fans,  behind  rains  of  gold,  athwart 
a  furnace  of  sunset,  or  against  an  immaculate  blue  bur 
nished  by  some  wizard  dawn,  exhaling  from  its  mimic 
crater  a  pillar  of  incense  smoke,  towering  above  stretches 
of  vineyards  and  city-speckled  plains,  or  perchance  be- 
girdled  by  a  rich  cloud  of  silky  shifting  tints,  like  some 
beauty  of  Yoshiwara. 

It  seems  almost  as  if  he  already  saw  the  light  of  the 
distant  dreamy  world  and  the  fairy  vapours  of  morning, 
and  the  marvellous  wreathing  of  clouds,  and  heard  the  pil 
grims'  clapping  of  hands,  saluting  the  mighty  day  in  Shinto 
prayer,  as  a  decade  later  he  saw,  and  heard,  when  he  as 
cended  Fuji-no-yama. 

A  year  after  the  exposition,  Hearn  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  a  young  Lieutenant  Crosby.  Young  Crosby  was  a 
native  of  Louisiana,  educated  at  West  Point,  stationed  at 
the  time  with  his  regiment  at  New  Orleans.  He  was  a  per 
son,  apparently,  of  considerable  culture.  He  and  Hearn 
•frequented  the  same  literary  circles.  Interest  in  science 
and  philosophy  was  as  wide-spread  in  America  as  in  Eu 
rope  during  the  course  of  last  century. 

One  day  Crosby  lent  his  new  acquaintance  Herbert 
Spencer's  "First  Principles."  In  his  usual  vehement,  im 
pressionable  way  Hearn  immediately  accepted  all  the 

138 


RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE 

tenets,  all  the  conclusions  arrived  at.  And  from  that  day 
began  what  only  can  be  called  an  intellectual  idolatry  for 
the  colourless  analytic  English  philosopher  that  lasted  till 
his  death. 

The  terms  in  which  he  alludes  to  him  are  superexag- 
gerated:  "the  greatest  mind  that  this  world  has  yet  pro 
duced — the  mind  that  systematised  all  human  knowledge, 
that  revolutionised  modern  science,  that  dissipated  materi 
alism  forever  .  .  .  the  mind  that  could  expound  with 
equal  lucidity,  and  by  the  same  universal  formula,  the  his 
tory  of  a  gnat  or  the  history  of  a  sun." 

Always  excitable  in  argument,  he  would  not  be  gain 
said,  and  indeed  at  various  periods  of  his  life,  when  people 
ventured  to  doubt  the  soundness  of  some  of  Spencer's  con 
clusions,  Hearn  would  not  only  refuse  to  discuss  the  sub 
ject,  but  henceforth  abstained  from  holding  communication 
with  the  offending  individual. 

"A  memory  of  long  ago  ...  I  am  walking  upon  a 
granite  pavement  that  rings  like  iron,  between  buildings 
of  granite  bathed  in  the  light  of  a  cloudless  noon.  .  ..  , 
Suddenly,  an  odd  feeling  comes  to  me,  with  a  sort  of  ting 
ling  shock, — a  feeling,  or  suspicion,  of  universal  illusion. 
The  pavement,  the  bulks  of  hewn  stone,  the  iron  rails,  and 
all  things  visible,  are  dreams !  Light,  colour,  form,  weight, 
solidity — all  sensed  existences — are  but  phantoms  of  being, 
manifestations  only  of  one  infinite  ghostliness  for  which 
the  language  of  man  has  not  any  word.  .  .  ." 

This  experience  had  been  produced,  he  says,  by  the  study 
of  the  first  volume  of  Spencer's  "Synthetic  Philosophy," 
which  an  American  friend  had  taught  him  how  to  read. 
Very  cautious  and  slow  his  progress  was,  like  that  of  a 
man  mounting  for  the  first  time  a  long  series  of  ladders 
in  darkness.  Beaching  the  light  at  last,  he  caught  a  sudden 
new  view  of  things — a  momentary  perception  of  the  illu 
sion  of  surfaces, — and  from  that  time  the  world  never 

139 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

again  appeared  to  him  quite  the  same  as  it  had  appeared 
before. 

It  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that,  though  the  mid- Victorian 
scientists  and  philosophers  were  in  the  zenith  of  their  in 
fluence  when  Hearn  was  in  London,  twenty  years  before 
these  New  Orleans  days,  he  never  seems  to  have  taken  an 
interest  in  their  speculations  or  theories.  We,  of  the  pres 
ent  generation,  can  hardly  realise  the  excitement  created 
by  the  new  survey  of  the  Cosmos  put  forth  by  Darwin  and 
his  adherents.  Old  forms  of  thought  crumbled;  the  con 
tinuity  of  life  was  declared  to  have  been  proved;  lower 
forms  were  raised  and  their  kinship  with  the  higher  demon 
strated  ;  man  was  deposed  and  put  back  into  the  sequence 
of  nature.  Hardly  a  decade  elapsed  before  the  enthusiasm 
began  to  wane.  Some  of  Darwin's  adherents  endeavoured 
to  initiate  what  they  called  a  scientific  philosophy,  at 
tempting  to  prove  more  than  he  did.  Herbert  Spencer,  in 
his  "Principles  of  Ethics, "  when  dealing  with  the  incep 
tion  of  moral  consciousness,  appealed  to  the  "Time  Proc 
ess/*  to  the  enormous  passage  of  the  years,  to  explain  the 
generation  of  sentiercy,  and  ultimately,  moral  conscious 
ness.  "Out  of  the  units  of  single  sensations,  older  than 
we  by  millions  of  years,  have  been  built  up  all  the  emo 
tions  and  faculties  of  man/'  echoes  his  disciple,  Lafcadio 
Hearn.  Spencer  also  put  forward  the  view,  from  which 
he  ultimately  withdrew,  that  natural  selection  tended  to 
wards  higher  conditions,  or,  as  he  termed  it,  "Equilibra 
tion," — a  state  in  which  all  struggle  had  ceased,  and  from 
which  all  disturbing  influences,  passion,  love,  happiness 
and  fear  were  eliminated. 

These  statements  were  contested  by  Darwin  and  Huxley, 
both  declaring  that  evolution  manifested  a  sublime  indif 
ference  to  the  pains  or  pleasures  of  man ;  evil  was  as  natural 
as  good  and  had  been  as  efficacious  a  factor  in  helping  for 
ward  the  progress  of  the  world. 

140 


RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE 

In  his  celebrated  Romanes  lecture  of  1893  on  the  sub 
ject  of  "Nature  and  Evolution,"  Huxley  turned  the  search 
light  of  his  analytical  intellect  on  Buddha's  theories  with 
regard  to  Karma  and  the  ultimate  progress  of  man  towards 
the  perfect  life,  and  effectually,  so  far  as  his  opinion  was 
concerned,  demolished  any  possible  reconciliation  between 
Buddhism  and  science.  "The  end  of  life's  dream  is  Nir 
vana.  What  Nirvana  is,  the  learned  do  not  agree,  but 
since  the  best  original  authorities  tell  us  there  is  neither 
desire,  nor  activity,  nor  any  possibility  of  phenomenal  re 
appearance,  for  the  sage  who  has  entered  Nirvana,  it  may 
be  safely  said  of  this  acme  of  Buddhist  philosophy — 'the 
rest  is  silence!'  " 

It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  the  two  points  of  contact  upon 
which  Hearn,  in  his  attempted  reconciliation  between 
Buddhism  and  modern  science  laid  most  stress,  were  dis 
proved  by  leading  scientists  even  before  he  had  read  Spen 
cer's  "First  Principles"  at  New  Orleans  in  1886,  and  it 
is  disconcerting  to  find  him  using  his  deftness  in  the  manip 
ulation  of  words,  to  reconcile  statements  of  Huxley's  and 
Darwin 's  with  his  own  wishes.  His  statement,  indeed,  that 
the  right  of  a  faith  to  live  is  only  to  be  proved  by  its  pos 
sible  reconciliation  with  natural  and  scientific  facts,  proves 
how  little  fitted  he  was  to  expound  natural  science. 

Long  before  he  went  to  Japan,  he  had  been  interested 
in  oriental  religion  and  ethics.  But  his  Buddhism  was 
really  only  a  vague,  poetical  theory,  as  was  his  Christianity. 
"When  I  write  God,  of  course  I  mean  only  the  World- 
Soul,  the  mighty  and  sweetest  life  of  Nature,  the  great 
Blue  Ghost,  the  Holy  Ghost  which  fills  planets  and  hearts 
with  beauty."  The  deeper  Buddhism,  he  affirmed,  was 
only  the  divine  in  man. 

Bruised  and  buffeted  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  it  is 
easy  to  imagine  the  attraction  that  the  Buddhist  ideal  of 
discipline  and  self-effacement  would  exercise  over  a  mind 

141 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

such  as  his.  Shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Japan,  standing 
opposite  the  great  Dai  Batsu  with  its  picturesque  surround 
ings  in  the  garden  at  Kamakura,  he  was  carried  away  by 
the  ideal  of  calm,  of  selflessness  that  it  embodied. 

It  has  generally  been  taken  for  granted  that  he  died  a 
Buddhist ;  he  emphatically  declared,  during  the  last  year  of 
his  life,  that  he  subscribed  to  no  Buddhistical  tenets. 

Invariably  the  best  critic  of  his  own  nature — * '  Truly  we 
have  no  permanent  opinions/'  he  writes,  "until  our  mental 
growth  is  done.  The  opinions  we  have  are  simply  lent  us 
for  awhile  by  the  gods — at  compound  interest!" 

There  is  a  characteristic  anecdote  told  of  him  by  a  cousin 
who  went  to  visit  him  when  a  boy  at  Ushaw.  He  asked  her 
to  bow  to  the  figure  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  which  stood  upon 
the  stairway.  She  refused,  upon  which  he  earnestly  re 
peated  his  request.  Shortly  after  this  incident  he  volun 
teered  the  statement  to  one  of  the  college  tutors,  who  found 
him  lying  on  his  back  in  the  grass,  looking  up  at  the  sky, 
that  he  was  a  pantheist. 

After  he  had  been  reading  some  of  the  Russian  novelists, 
though  he  confessed  to  a  world  of  romance  in  old  Roman 
ism,  the  Greek  Church,  he  thought,  had  a  better  chance  of 
life.  Russia  seemed  the  coming  race,  a  Russian  Mass 
would  one  day  be  sung  in  St.  Peter's,  and  Cossack  soldiers 
would  wait  at  Stamboul  in  the  reconsecrated  Basilica  of 
Justinian  for  the  apparition  of  that  phantom  priest  destined 
to  finish  the  Mass,  interrupted  by  the  swords  of  the  Jani 
zaries  of  Mahomet  II. 

In  spite  of  frequently  declaring  himself  a  radical,  the 
trend  of  Hearn's  mind  was  distinctly  conservative.  Old 
beliefs  handed  down  from  century  to  century,  old  temples 
sanctified  for  generations,  old  emotions  that  had  moulded 
the  life  of  the  people,  had  for  him  supreme  attraction. 
When  he  arrived  at  Matsue  and  found  an  Arcadian  state 
of  things,  a  happy,  contented,  industrious  people,  and  an 

142 


RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE 

artistic  development  of  a  remarkable  kind,  the  girl  he  mar 
ried,  also,  Setsu  Koizumi,  having  been  brought  up  in  the 
tenets  of  the  ancient  faith,  it  was  a  foregone  conclusion 
that  he  should  endeavour  to  harmonise  Shintoism  and 
Buddhism  with  the  philosophy  propounded  by  his  high- 
priest,  Herbert  Spencer.  Following  the  lead  of  his  master, 
he  committed  himself  to  the  statement  that  "ancestor  wor 
ship  was  the  root  of  all  religion. "  Cut  off  from  commu 
nication  with  outside  opinion,  he  did  not  know  how  hotly 
this  idea  had  been  contested,  Frederic  Harrison,  amongst 
others,  asserting  that  the  worship  of  natural  objects — not 
spirit  or  ancestor  worship — was  the  beginning  of  the  re 
ligious  sentiment  in  man. 

It  was  of  the  nature  of  Hearn's  mind  that  he  should 
have  taken  up  and  clung  to  this  Spencerian  idea  of  ghost- 
cult,  the  religion  of  the  dead.  From  his  earliest  child 
hood  the  "ghostly"  had  always  haunted  him.  Even  the 
name  of  the  Holy  Ghost  as  taught  him  in  his  childish 
catechism  was  invested  with  a  vague  reverential  feeling  of 
uncanny,  ghostly  influences.  When  therefore  in  the  "Syn 
thetic  Philosophy"  he  found  Spencer  declaring  that  ances 
tor  worship,  the  influence  of  spirits  or  ghosts,  was  the 
foundation  of  all  religion,  he  subscribed  to  the  same  idea. 
"The  real  religion  of  Japan,"  he  says  in  his  essay  on  the 
ancient  cult,  "the  religion  still  professed  in  one  form  or 
other  by  the  entire  nation,  is  that  cult  which  has  been  the 
foundation  of  all  civilised  religion  and  of  all  civilised 
society,  '  Ancestor  worship/  Patriotism  belongs  to  it,  filial 
power  depends  upon  it,  family  love  is  rooted  in  it,  loyalty 
is  based  upon  it.  The  soldier  who,  to  make  a  path  for 
his  comrades  through  the  battle,  deliberately  flings  away 
his  life  with  a  shout  of  'Teikoku  manzai'  (Empire,  good 
bye),  obeys  the  will  and  fears  the  approval  of  ghostly  wit 
nesses.  ' ' 

Mr.  Robert  Young,  editor  of  the  Japan  Chronicle,  and 

143 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Mr.  W.  B.  Mason,  who  both  of  them  have  lived  in  Japan 
for  many  years,  keen  observers  of  Japanese  characteristics 
and  tendencies,  in  discussing  the  value  of  Hearn 's  books  as 
expositions  of  the  country,  were  unanimous  in  declaring 
that  he  greatly  overestimated  the  influence  of  ancestor 
worship. 

The  Japanese,  like  all  gallant  people,  foster  a  deep 
reverence  for  their  heroic  ancestors.  Secluded  from  the 
rest  of  the  world  for  centuries,  all  their  hero-worship  had 
been  devoted  to  their  own  nationality ;  but  practical,  hard- 
headed,  material-minded,  pushing  forward  in  every  direc 
tion,  grasping  the  necessities  that  the  competitive  struggle 
of  modern  civilisation  has  forced  upon  them,  keeping  in 
the  van  by  every  means  inculcated  by  cleverness  and 
shrewdness — arguing  by  analogy,  it  is  not  likely  that  a 
people,  living  intensely  in  the  present,  clutching  at  every 
opportunity  as  it  passes,  would  nourish  a  feeling  such  as 
Hearn  describes  for  "millions  long  buried " — for  "the 
nameless  dead." 

Nature  worship,  the  worship  of  the  sun,  that  gave  its 
name  to  the  ancient  kingdom,  the  natural  phenomena  of 
their  volcanic  mountains  Fuji-no-yama  or  Asama-yama,  in 
spired  feelings  of  reverence  in  the  ancient  Japanese  far 
more  potent  than  any  idea  connected  with  their  ' '  ancestral 
spirits. ' ' 

In  Shinto  there  is  no  belief  in  the  passage  of  "mind 
essence"  from  form  to  form,  as  in  Buddhism;  the  spirits 
of  the  dead,  according  to  the  most  ancient  Japanese  re 
ligion,  continue  to  exist  in  the  world,  they  mingle  with  the 
viewless  forces  of  Nature  and  act  through  them,  still  sur 
rounding  the  living,  expecting  daily  offerings  and  prayers. 
What  a  charm  and  mysticism  is  imparted  to  all  the  literary 
work  done  by  Hearn  in  Japan  by  the  Shinto  idea  of  an 
cestral  ghosts,  which  he  really  seems  for  a  time  to  have 
adopted,  woven  into  the  Buddhist  belief  in  pre-existence, 

144 


RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE 

the  continuity  of  mind  connected  again  with  the  scientific 
theory  of  evolution. 

"He  stands  and  proclaims  his  mysteries/'  says  an 
American  critic,  "at  the  meeting  of  Three  Ways.  To  the 
religious  instinct  of  India, — Buddhism  in  particular, — 
which  history  has  engrafted  on  the  assthetic  heart  of  Japan, 
Hearn  brings  the  interpreting  spirit  of  Occidental  science ; 
and  these  three  traditions  are  fused  by  the  peculiar  sym 
pathies  of  his  mind  into  one  rich  and  novel  compound, — a 
compound  so  rare  as  to  have  introduced  into  literature  a 
pyschological  sensation  unknown  before.  More  than  any 
other  living  author  he  has  added  a  new  thrill  to  our  intel 
lectual  experience," 

When  at  Tokyo,  if  you  find  your  way  into  the  street 
called  Naka-dori,  where  ancient  curios  and  embroideries 
are  to  be  bought — you  will  perchance  be  shown  a  wonderful 
fabric  minutely  intersected  with  delicate  traceries  on  a 
dark-coloured  texture.  If  you  are  accompanied  by  any  one 
who  is  acquainted  with  ancient  Japanese  embroidery,  they 
will  show  you  that  these  traceries  are  fine  Japanese  ideo 
graphs;  poems,  proverbs,  legends,  embroidered  by  the  lay 
ing  on  of  thread  by  thread  all  over  the  tissue,  producing 
a  most  harmonious  and  beautiful  effect.  Thus  did  Hearn, 
like  these  ancient  artificers,  weave  ancient  theories  of  pre- 
existence  and  Karma  into  spiritual  fantasies  and  imagina 
tions.  Ever  in  consonance  with  wider  interests  his  work 
opened  up  strange  regions  of  dreamland,  touched  trains 
of  thought  that  run  far  beyond  the  boundaries  of  men's 
ordinary  mental  horizon.  In  his  sketch,  for  instance, 
called  the  "Mountain  of  Skulls,"1  how  weirdly  does  he 
make  use  of  the  idea  of  pre-existence.  A  young  man  and 
his  guide  are  pictured  climbing  up  a  mountain,  where  was 
no  beaten  path,  the  way  lying  over  an  endless  heaping  of 
tumbled  fragments. 

i  "In  Ghostly  Japan,"  Little,  Brown  &  Co. 

145 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Under  the  stars  they  climbed,  aided  by  some  superhuman 
power,  and  as  they  climbed  the  fragments  under  their  feet 
yielded  with  soft  dull  crashings.  .  .  .  And  once  the 
pilgrim  youth  laid  hand  on  something  smooth  that  was  not 
stone — and  lifted  it — and  was  startled  by  the  cheekless  gibe 
of  death. 

In  his  inimitable  way,  Hearn  tells  how  the  dawn  breaks, 
casting  a  light  on  the  monstrous  measureless  height  round 
them.  "All  of  these  skulls  and  dust  of  bones,  my  son,  are 
your  own!"  says  his  guide.  "Each  has  at  some  time  been 
the  nest  of  your  dreams  and  delusions  and  desires." 

The  Buddhist  idea  of  pre-existence  has  been  believed  in 
by  orientals  from  time  immemorial;  in  the  Sacontala  the 
Indian  poet,  Calidas,  says :  i  i  Perhaps  the  sadness  of  men, 
in  seeing  beautiful  forms  and  hearing  sweet  music,  arises 
from  some  remembrance  of  past  joys,  and  the  traces  of 
connections  in  a  former  state  of  existence."  The  idea  has 
been  re-echoed  by  many  in  our  own  time,  but  by  none 
more  exquisitely  and  fancifully  than  by  Lafcadio  Hearn. 

In  one  of  his  sketches,  entitled,  "A  Serenade,"  his 
prose  is  the  essence  of  music,  weird  and  pathetic  as  a  noc 
turne  by  Chopin;  setting  thrilling  a  host  of  memories 
and  dreams,  suggesting  hints  and  echoes  of  ineffable 
things.  You  feel  the  violet  gloom,  the  warm  air,  and  see 
the  fire-flies,  the  plumes  of  the  palms,  and  the  haunting 
circle  of  the  sea  beyond,  the  silence  only  broken  by  the 
playing  of  flutes  and  mandolines. 

"The  music  hushed,  and  left  me  dreaming  and  vainly 
trying  to  explain  the  emotion  that  it  had  made.  Of  one 
thing  only  I  felt  assured, — that  the  mystery  was  of  other 
existences  than  mine. ' ' * 

Then  he  brings  forward  the  favourite  theme,  that  our 
living  present  is  the  whole  dead  past.  Our  pleasures  and 
our  pains  alike  are  but  products  of  evolution — created  by 

i  "Exotics  and  Retrospectives,"  Little,  Brown  &  Co, 

146 


RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE 

experiences  of  vanished  being  more  countless  than  the 
sands  of  a  myriad  seas.  .  .  .  Echoing  into  his  own 
past,  he  imagines  the  music  startling  from  their  sleep  of 
ages  countless  buried  loves,  the  elfish  ecstasy  of  their 
thronging  awakening  endless  remembrance,  and  with  that 
awakening  the  delight  passed,  and  in  the  dark  the  sadness 
only  lingered — unutterable — profound. 


U7 


CHAPTER  XIV 
WEST  INDIES 

"Ah!  the  dawnless  glory  of  tropic  morning!  The  single  sudden 
leap  of  the  giant  light  over  the  purpling  of  a  hundred  peaks, — over 
the  surging  of  the  Mornes!  and  the  early  breezes  from  the  hills — all 
cool  out  of  the  sleep  of  the  forest,  .  .  .  and  the  wild  high  winds 
that  run  roughling  and  crumpling  through  the  cane  of  the  mountain 
slopes  in  storms  of  papery  sound.  And  the  mighty  dreaming  of  the 
woods, — green  drenched  with  silent  pouring  of  creepers  .  .  .  and 
the  eternal  azure  apparition  of  the  all-circling  sea.  .  .  .  And  the 
violet  velvet  distances  of  evening,  and  the  swaying  of  palms  against 
the  orange-burning  sunset, — when  all  the  heavens  seem  filled  with 
vapours  of  a  molten  sun!" 

IN  the  early  part  of  June,  1887,  Hearn  left  New  Or 
leans,  and  made  his  way  to  New  York  via  Cincinnati. 
.He  went  to  see  no  one  in  the  western  city,  where  he  had 
been  so  well  known,  but  his  old  friend  Mr.  Watkin. 
Seated  in  the  printing-office,  then  situated  at  26,  Long- 
worth  Street,  they  chatted  together  all  day  to  the  accom 
paniment  of  the  ticking  of  the  tall  clock,  loud  and  insistent, 
like  the  footstep  of  a  man  booted  and  spurred.  We  can 
imagine  their  discussions  and  arguments  on  the  subject 
of  Herbert  Spencer  and  Darwin,  Esoteric  Buddhism,  and 
"that  which  the  Christian  calls  soul, — the  Pantheist  Na 
ture, — the  philosopher,  the  Unknowable." 

Hearn  took  his  departure  from  Cincinnati  late  in  the 
evening.  A  delightful  trip,  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Watkin,  had 
brought  him  safe  and  sound  to  New  York,  where  his  dear 
friend,  Krehbiel,  was  waiting  to  receive  him  and  take 
him  as  a  guest  to  his  cosy  home.  "I  cannot  tell  you,"  he 

148 


WEST  INDIES 

adds,  "how  our  little  meeting  delighted  me,  or  how  much 
I  regretted  to  depart  so  soon.  ...  I  felt  that  I  loved 
you  more  than  I  ever  did  before;  feel  also  how  much  I 
owed  you  and  will  always  owe  you."  -v 

Mr.  Watkin,  who  died  in  the  spring  of  1911,  aged  eighty- 
six,  spent  the  last  years  of  his  life  in  the  "Old  Men's 
Home"  in  Cincinnati.  I  received  a  letter  from  him  a 
few  months  before  his  death  relating  to  his  friend  Lafcadio 
Hearn.  After  this  meeting  in  1887,  he  was  never  fated 
to  see  his  "Raven,"  but  the  old  man  kept  religiously  all 
the  letters  written  to  him  by  the  odd  little  genius,  who 
forty  years  before  had  so  often  sat  with  him  in  his  print 
ing-office,  pouring  forth  his  hopes  and  ambitions,  his 
opinions  and  beliefs,  his  wild  revolts  and  despairs.  Loy 
ally  did  the  old  printer  add  his  voice  to  Krehbiel's  and 
Tunison's  in  defence  of  his  reputation  after  Hearn 's  death 
in  1904. 

The  Krehbiels  lived  in  a  flat,  438,  West  Fifty-seventh 
Street,  New  York,  and  Lafcadio  had  arranged  to  stop  with 
them  there  before  he  left  New  Orleans. 

Krehbiel's  position  as  musical  critic  to  the  Tribune  ne 
cessitated  his  frequenting  busy  literary  and  social  circles; 
it  is  easy  to  imagine  how  Hearn,  just  arrived  from  the 
easy-going,  loafing  life  of  New  Orleans,  must  have  suf 
fered  in  such  a  milieu. 

Gould,  in  his  "Biography,"  notes  with  "sorrow  and 
pain"  that  Hearn 's  letters  to  Krehbiel  suddenly  ceased 
in  1887.  "One  may  be  sure,"  he  adds,  "that  it  was  not 
Krehbiel  who  should  be  blamed."  Without  blaming  either 
Krehbiel  or  Hearn,  it  is  easy  to  see  many  reasons  for  the 
break-off  of  the  close  communion  between  the  friends. 
For  a  person  of  Hearn 's  temperament,  innumerable  sunken 
rocks  beset  the  waters  in  which  he  found  himself  in  New 
York  City.  Before  starting  on  his  journey  thither  he  told 
Krehbiel  that  the  idea  of  mixing  in  society  in  a  great 

149 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

metropolis  was  a  horrible  nightmare,  that  he  had  been  a 
demophobe  for  years,  hating  crowds  and  the  heterogeneous 
acquaintances  of  ordinary  city  life.  "Here  I  visit  a  few 
friends  for  months,  then  disappear  for  six.  Can 't  help  it ; 
— just  a  nervous  condition  that  renders  effort  unpleasant. 
So  I  shall  want  to  be  very  well  hidden  away  in  New  York, 
— to  see  no  one  except  you  and  Joe. ' ' 

It  was  hardly  a  prudent  step  on  Krehbiel's  part  to 
subject  this  sensitive,  excitable  spirit  to  so  great  a  trial  of 
temper  as  caging  him  in  a  flat  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
"beastly  machinery. "  He  and  Hearn  had  not  met  per 
sonally  since  Cincinnati  days,  many  divergencies  of  senti 
ment  and  feeling  must  have  arisen  between  them  in  that 
space  of  ten  years,  subtle  antagonisms  of  personal  habit 
and  manner  of  life,  formed  in  the  passage  of  the  years, 
that  would  not  have  revealed  themselves  in  letters  trans 
mitted  across  thousands  of  miles. 

Hearn,  like  many  Irishmen,  was  intemperate  in  argu 
ment.  Testiness  in  argument  is  a  quality  peculiar  to  the 
Celt,  and  in  the  Hearn  family  was  inordinately  developed. 
Kichard  Hearn,  Laf cadio  's  uncle,  the  warmest  and  gentlest- 
hearted  of  men,  would  sometimes  become  quite  unman 
ageable  in  the  course  of  a  political  or  artistic  discussion. 
Old  Mrs.  Hearn,  Laf  cadio 's  grandmother,  a  person  far 
superior  to  any  of  the  Hearns  of  her  day  in  mental  cal 
ibre,  was  wont  to  declare  that  the  only  way  she  had  lived 
in  peace  and  amity  with  her  husband  and  his  relations 
was  that  for  thirty  years  she  had  never  ventured  to  ex 
press  an  opinion. 

Krehbiel  was  a  Teuton,  a  northerner;  Hearn  was  an 
oriental  with  oriental  tendencies  and  sympathies.  Con 
tinually  in  the  course  of  the  Krehbiel  correspondence, 
Hearn  reminds  his  friend  that  his  ancestors  were  Goths 
and  Vandals — and  he  tells  him  that  he  still  possesses  traces 
of  that  Gothic  spirit  which  detests  all  beauty  that  is  not 

150 


WEST  INDIES 

beautiful  with  the  fantastic  and  unearthly  beauty  that  is 
Gothic.  .  .  .  This  is  a  cosmopolitan  art  era,  he  tells 
him  again,  and  you  must  not  judge  everything  that  claims 
art  merit  by  a  Gothic  standard. 

From  the  fine  criticisms  and  essays  that  have  been 
given  to  the  public  by  Henry  Krehbiel,  it  is  apparent  that 
his  musical  taste  was  entirely  for  German  music.  Above 
all,  he  was  an  enthusiast  upon  the  subject  of  the  Modern 
School,  the  Music  of  the  Future,  as  it  was  called;  Hearn, 
on  the  other  hand — no  musician  from  a  technical  point  of 
view — frankly  declared  that  he  preferred  a  folk-song  or 
negro  melody,  to  a  Beethoven's  sonata  or  an  opera  by 
Wagner. 

Krehbiel,  in  an  article  written  after  his  death,  en 
titled  "Hearn  and  Folk  Music/'  declares  that  it  would 
have  broken  Hearn 's  heart  had  he  ever  told  him  that  any 
of  the  music  which  he  sent  him  or  of  which  he  wrote  de 
scriptions  showed  no  African,  but  Scotch  and  British 
characteristics,  or  sophistications  from  the  civilised  art. 
"He  had  heard  from  me  of  oriental  scales,  and  savage 
music,  in  which  there  were  fractional  tones  unknown  to 
the  occidental  system.  These  tones  he  thought  he  heard 
again  in  negro  and  Creole  melodies,  and  he  was  constantly 
trying  to  make  me  understand  what  he  meant  by  descrip 
tions,  by  diagrams,  he  could  not  record  rhythms  in  any 
other  way.  The  glissando  effect  which  may  be  heard  in 
negro  singing,  and  the  use  of  tones  not  in  our  scales,  he 
described  over  and  over  again  as  '  tonal  splinterings. ' 
They  had  for  him  a  great  charm. ' ' 

Miss  Elizabeth  Bisland  was  in  New  York,  acting  as  sub 
editor  of  the  Cosmopolitan  Magazine.  Lafcadio  made  an 
unsuccessful  attempt  to  see  her.  "Nobody  can  find  any 
body,  nothing  seems  to  be  anywhere,  everything  seems  to 
be  mathematics,  and  geometry,  and  enigmatics,  and  rid 
dles  and  confusion  worse  confounded.  ...  I  am  sorry 

151 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

not  to  see  you — but  since  you  live  in  Hell  what  can  I  do?" 
This  is  his  outburst  to  Tunison. 

To  Harpers,  the  publishers,  he  offered  to  go  where  they 
would  send  him,  so  long  as  it  was  south,  taking  an  open 
engagement  to  send  them  letters  when  he  could.  They 
suggested  a  trip  to  the  West  Indies  and  British  Guiana. 
In  the  beginning  of  June,  1887,  he  started  on  the  Bar- 
racouta  for  Trinidad.  His  account  of  his  "Midsummer 
Trip  to  the  West  Indies,"  a  trip  that  only  lasted  for 
three  months,  from  July  to  September,  appeared  origi 
nally  in  Harper's  Monthly.  It  was  afterwards  incorpo 
rated  in  his  larger  book,  "Two  Years  in  the  French  West 
Indies." 

Hearn's  more  intimate  life,  during  this,  his  first  visit 
to  the  tropics,  is  to  be  found  recounted  in  his  letters  to 
Dr.  Matas,  the  New  Orleans  physician.  They  reveal  the 
same  erratic,  unpractical,  wayward  being  as  ever,  beset  by 
financial  difficulties,  carried  away  by  unbalanced  enthusi 
asms. 

He  had  been  without  a  cent  of  money,  he  said,  for  four 
months,  and,  unacquainted  with  any  one,  he  could  not 
get  credit,  yet  starvation  at  Martinique  was  preferable  to 
luxury  in  New  York.  "The  climate  was  simply  heaven 
on  earth,  no  thieves,  no  roughs,  no  snobs;  everything 
primitive  and  morally  pure.  Confound  fame,  wealth,  rep 
utation  and  splendour!  Leave  them  all,  give  up  New 
Orleans,  these  things  are  superfluous  in  the  West  Indies, 
obsolete  nuisances."  All  ambition  to  write  was  paralysed, 
"but  nature  did  the  writing  in  green,  azure,  and  gold, 
while  the  palms  distilled  Elixir  Vita."  1 

There  is  only  one  letter  to  Krehbiel  from  the  West 
Indies,  published  in  the  series  edited  by  Miss  Bisland. 
Krehbiel  was  apparently  leaving  for  Europe  to  attend  the 

i  Dr.  George  Milbury  Gould's  book,  "Concerning  Lafcadio  Hearn," 
published  by  Messrs.  Fisher  Unwin. 

152 


WEST  INDIES 

Wagner  Festival  at  Bayreuth.  Hearn  expresses  a  hope 
that  before  his  departure  from  New  York  he  would  ar 
range  with  Tunison  or  somebody  to  put  the  things  left 
in  his  charge  by  Hearn,  in  a  place  of  safety  until  some 
arrangement  had  been  come  to  with  Harpers,  the  pub 
lishers.  Though  there  is  no  record  of  a  broken  friend 
ship,  the  two  comrades  had  apparently  drifted  apart. 
All  the  old  spontaneity,  the  close  communion  of  mind 
with  mind  was  gone.  You  cannot  help  feeling  as  if 
you  had  personally  lost  a  valued  and  sympathetic  com 
panion. 

During  the  course  of  the  month  of  September,  Hearn 
found  himself  back  in  the  United  States.  His  stay,  how 
ever,  only  lasted  a  week.  He  arrived  on  the  21st,  and  on 
the  28th  of  the  same  month  returned  to  the  tropics  on 
board  the  Barracouta,  on  which  he  had  returned.  "Two 
Years  in  the  French  West  Indies,"  though  it  has  not  the 
poetic  pathos,  the  weird  atmosphere,  that  make  his  Japa 
nese  books  so  arresting  and  original,  is  a  delightful  col 
lection  of  pictures  taken  absolutely  fresh  from  the  heart 
of  tropical  nature  with  its  luxuriant  and  exotic  beauty. 
Had  he  never  written  anything  but  this,  Hearn  would 
have  been  recognised  as  one,  at  least,  of  the  striking  fig 
ures  in  the  prose  literature  of  the  latter  end  of  the  nine 
teenth  century.  To  appreciate  the  beauty  of  its  style,  it 
is  well  to  compare  it  with  books  on  the  same  subject, 
Froude's  "West  Indies,"  for  instance,  or  Sir  Frederick 
Treve's  "Cradle  of  the  Deep,"  written,  both  of  them,  in 
sonorous,  vigorous  English.  You  are  interested,  carried 
along  in  the  flow  of  chapter  and  paragraph,  suddenly  you 
come  upon  a  few  sentences  that  take  your  senses  captive 
with  the  music  of  their  eddying  ripple.  You  feel  as  if 
you  had  been  walking  through  a  well-cultured  upland 
country,  when  from  under  a  hidden  bank  the  music  of  a 
running  stream  falls  upon  your  ear  with  the  soothing 

153 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

magic  of  its  silvery  cadence;  looking  at  the  foot  of  the 
page  you  see  it  is  a  quotation  from  Lafcadio  Hearn.  For 
instance : — 

"Soundless  as  a  shadow  is  the  motion  of  all  these  naked- 
footed  people.  On  any  quiet  mountain  way,  full  of  curves, 
where  you  fancy  yourself  alone,  you  may  often  be  startled 
by  something  you  feel,  rather  than  hear  behind  you, — 
surd  steps,  the  springy  movement  of  a  long  lithe  body, 
dumb  oscillations  of  raiment, — and  ere  you  can  turn  to 
look,  the  haunter  swiftly  passes  with  Creole  greeting  of 
'bon-jou'  or  'bonsoue,  missie.7  .  .  ." 

"Two  Years  in  the  French  West  Indies"  was  dedicated 


"A  mon  cher  ami, 

"LEOPOLD  ARNOUX 

"Notaire  a  Saint  Pierre,  Martinique. 

"Souvenir  de  nos  promenades,  de  nos  voyages,  de  nos 
causeries,  des  sympathies  echangees,  de  tout  le  charme 
d  'une  amitie  inalterable  et  inoubliable,  de  tout  ce  qui  parle 
a  Tame  au  doux  Pays  des  Revenants." 

Arnoux  is  mentioned  subsequently  in  one  or  two  of 
Hearn 's  letters.  He  alludes  to  suppers  eaten  with  him  at 
Grande  Anse,  in  a  little  room  opening  over  a  low  garden 
full  of  banana-trees,  to  the  black  beach  of  the  sea,  with  the 
great  voice  thundering  outside  so  that  they  could  scarcely 
hear  themselves  speak,  and  the  candle  in  the  verrine  flut 
tering  like  something  afraid. 

In  1902,  in  a  letter  written  to  Ellwood  Hendrik  from 
Tokyo,  shortly  after  the  great  eruption  of  Mt.  Pelee  that 
destroyed  Saint  Pierre,  he  alludes  to  Arnoux'  garden,  and 
speaks  of  a  spray  of  arborescent  fern  that  had  been  sent 
him.  In  the  fragment,  also,  called  "Vanished  Light, "  he 

154 


WEST  INDIES 

describes  the  amber  shadows  and  courtyard  filled  with 
flickering  emerald  and  the  chirrup  of  leaping  water.  A 
little  boy  and  girl  run  to  meet  him,  and  the  father's  voice, 
deep  and  vibrant  as  the  tone  of  a  great  bell,  calls  from  an 
inner  doorway,  "Entrez  done,  mon  ami!"  "But  all  this 
was — and  is  not!  .  .  .  Never  again  will  sun  or  moon 
shine  upon  the  streets  of  that  city;  never  again  will  its 
ways  be  trodden,  never  again  will  its  gardens  blossom 
.  .  .  except  in  dreams." 

Hearn  definitely  left  Martinique  in  1889,  bound  for 
America;  having  completed  the  task  he  had  undertaken 
to  do.  Much  as  he  loved  the  lazy,  easy  tropical  life, 
"the  perfumed  peace  of  enormous  azured  noons,  and  the 
silent  flickering  of  fire-flies  through  the  lukewarm  dis 
tance,  the  turquoise  sky  and  the  beautiful  brown  women," 
he  began,  before  the  end  of  his  stay,  to  acknowledge  that 
the  resources  of  intellectual  life  were  lacking;  no  libra 
ries,  no  books  in  any  language;  a  mind  accustomed  to 
discipline  became,  he  said,  like  a  garden  long  uncultivated, 
in  which  rare  flowers  returned  to  their  primitive  savage 
forms,  smothered  by  rank,  tough  growths,  which  ought  to 
be  pulled  up  and  thrown  away.  "Nature  does  not  allow 
serious  study  or  earnest  work,  and  if  you  revolt  against 
her,  she  leaves  you  helpless  and  tortured  for  months.  One 
must  not  seek  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  world  is  young  here, — 
not  old  and  wise  and  grey  as  in  the  North.  .  .  .  The 
material  furnished  by  the  tropics  could  only, ' '  he  said,  ' '  be 
utilised  in  a  Northern  atmosphere.  .  .  ."  The  climate 
numbed  mental  life,  and  the  inspiration  he  hoped  for 
wouldn't  come. 

During  his  stay  in  New  York,  while  preparing 
"Youma"  (a  story  written  in  the  West  Indies)  for  press 
and  going  over  the  proofs  of  "Chita"  before  its  appear 
ance  in  book  form,  he  seems  to  have  been  in  a  pitiable  state 
of  destitution,  obliged  to  make  a  translation  of  Anatole 

155 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

France's  "Le  Crime  de  Sylvestre  Bonnard"  to  keep  bread 
in  his  mouth. 

"So  you  read  my  translation  of  'Sylvestre  Bonnard?'  " 
he  says  to  his  sister,  writing  from  Japan.  "I  made  it  in 
two  weeks,  the  Publishers  paying  me  only  $100.  Of  course 
the  translation  was  too  quickly  done  to  be  very  good.  I 
could  not  have  written  it  all  in  the  prescribed  time,  so  a 
typewriter  was  hired  for  me.  She  was  a  pretty  girl  and 
I  almost  fell  in  love  with  her." 

In  1889,  Hearn  made  that  ill-advised  visit  to  Phila 
delphia,  to  Dr.  George  Milbury  Gould.  He  had  only 
known  this  gentleman  hitherto  through  an  interchange  of 
letters.  Gould  had  written  to  him  at  New  Orleans,  ex 
pressing  delight  with  some  of  Hearn 's  translations  from 
the  French,  upon  which  Hearn,  in  his  usual  impulsive  way 
rushed  into  a  correspondence.  This  was  in  April.  1887. 
Gould  had  written  several  pamphlets  on  the  subject  of 
myopia  and  defective  sight,  these  he  sent  to  Hearn,  and 
Hearn  had  responded,  touching,  as  usual,  on  every  sort  of 
philosophical  and  literary  subject.  When  he  returned  to 
the  United  States,  after  his  two  years  in  the  French  West 
Indies,  he  thought  he  would  like  to  consult  Gould  on  the 
subject  of  his  eyesight.  He  therefore  wrote,  suggesting 
that  if  a  quiet  room  could  be  found  for  him  in  Philadel 
phia  he  would  try  his  luck  there. 

Gould 's  account  of  his  first  appearance  in  his  consulting- 
room  is  familiar  to  all  who  have  read  his  book.  "The 
poor  exotic  was  so  sadly  out  of  place,  so  wondering,  so 
suffering  and  shy,  that  he  would  certainly  have  run  out 
of  the  house  if  by  a  tone  of  voice  I  had  betrayed  any  curi 
osity  or  a  doubt. ' ' 1 

Being  extremely  hard-up,  Hearn  was  glad  to  accept  an 
arrangement  to  stop  in  Gould's  house  for  a  while,  sharing 
the  family  meals,  but  spending  the  greater  part  of  the  day 

i  "Concerning  Lafcadio  Hearn/'  Messrs.  Fisher  Unwin. 

156 


WEST  INDIES 

at  work  on  his  proof-correcting  in  a  room  set  apart  for 
him.  An  incident,  related  by  Gould,  shows  Hearn's  ex 
traordinary  shyness  and  dislike  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  strangers.  He  was  desirous  of  giving  an  idea  of  the 
music  of  Creole  songs  in  his  book  on  the  West  Indies,  but, 
because  of  his  ignorance  of  technical  counterpoint,  was  un 
able  to  do  so.  Gould  made  an  arrangement  with  a  lady, 
an  acquaintance,  to  repeat  the  airs  on  her  piano  as  he 
whistled  them.  An  appointment  was  made  for  a  visit, 
but  on  their  way  to  the  house  Hearn  gradually  became 
more  and  more  silent,  and  his  steps  slower  and  slow 
er.  When  at  last  he  reached  the  doorstep  and  the  bell 
had  been  rung,  his  courage  failed,  and  before  the  servant 
appeared  he  had  run,  as  if  for  life,  and  was  half  a  square 
away. 

Gould  claims  to  have  made  noteworthy  changes  in 
Hearn's  character  during  the  summer  he  stayed  with  him 
at  Philadelphia.  He  declares  that  he  first  gave  him  a 
"soul,"  taught  him  the  sense  of  duty,  and  made  him  ap 
preciate  the  beauties  of  domestic  life!  A  very  beautiful 
story  entitled  "Karma,"  published  in  Lippincott's  Maga 
zine  after  Hearn  had  left  for  Japan,  certainly  shows  that 
a  change  of  some  sort  was  being  wrought.  ' '  I  never  could 
find  in  the  tropics  that  magnificent  type  of  womanhood 
which,  in  the  New  England  girl,  makes  one  afraid  even  to 
think  about  sex,  while  absolutely  adoring  the  personality. 
Perfect  nature  inspires  a  love  that  is  fear.  I  don't  think 
any  love  is  noble  without  it.  The  tropical  woman  inspires 
a  love  that  is  half  compassion;  this  is  always  dangerous, 
untrustworthy,  delusive. ' ' 

Gould,  also,  much  to  the  indignation  of  Hearn's  friends, 
claims  to  have  been  the  first  person  who  definitely  turned 
his  thoughts  to  the  Far  East.  Inasmuch  as  Hearn's  mind 
had  been  impregnated  with  Japan  from  New  Orleans  days, 
this  seems  an  unlikely  statement;  but  of  all  unprofitable 

157 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

things  in  this  world  is  the  sifting  of  literary  wrangles; 
Hearn's  intimacy  with  George  Milbury  Gould  has  led  to 
lawsuits,  recriminations,  and  many  distasteful  and  painful 
episodes  between  Gould  and  some  of  Hearn's  friends.  It 
is  as  well  perhaps,  therefore,  to  go  into  detail  as  little  as 
possible. 

A  passage  occurs  in  one  of  Hearn's  letters  to  Ellwood 
Hendrik  which  disposes  of  the  matter.  "Of  course  we 
shall  never  see  each  other  again  in  this  world,  and  what 
is  the  use  of  being  unkind  after  all?  .  .  .  The  effect 
is  certainly  to  convince  a  man  of  forty-four  that  the  less 
he  has  to  do  with  his  fellowmen  the  better,  or,  at  least,  that 
the  less  he  has  to  do  with  the  so-called  'cultured'  the  bet 
ter.  .  .  ." 

From  the  city  of  doctors  and  Quakers,  Hearn  wrote 
several  letters  to  Miss  Bisland,  at  first  entirely  formal 
upon  literary  subjects.  He  couldn't  say  when  he  was  go 
ing  to  New  York,  as  he  was  tied  up  by  business  muddle, 
waiting  for  information,  anxious  beyond  expression  about 
an  undecided  plan,  shivering  with  cold,  and  longing  for 
the  tropics. 

Lights  are  thrown  upon  his  emotional  and  intellectual 
life  in  letters  written  in  the  autumn  to  Dr.  Gould  from 
New  York. 

Japan  was  looming  large  on  the  oriental  horizon.  A 
book  by  Percival  Lowell,  entitled  "The  Soul  of  the  Far 
East,"  had  just  appeared.  It  apparently  made  a  pro 
found  impression  upon  Hearn;  every  word  he  declared  to 
be  dynamic,  as  lucid  and  philosophical  as  Schopenhauer. 
All  his  former  enthusiasm  for  Japan  was  aroused,  he  fol 
lowed  her  progress  with  the  deepest  interest.  The  Japa 
nese  constitution  had  been  promulgated  in  1889,  the  first 
diet  had  met  in  Tokyo  in  1890,  the  simultaneous  recon 
struction  of  her  army,  and  creation  of  a  navy,  was  gradu 
ally  placing  her  in  the  van  of  far  eastern  nations;  and, 

158 


WEST  INDIES 

what  was  more  important  to  commercial  America,  her 
trade  had  enormously  developed  under  the  new  regime. 

Harpers,  the  publishers,  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  would  be  expedient  to  send  one  of  their  staff  to  Tokyo 
as  regular  correspondent;  Hearn  had  succeeded  in  catch 
ing  the  attention  of  the  public  by  his  story  of  "Chita" 
and  "A  Midsummer  Trip,"  that  had  both  been  published 
serially  in  their  magazine.  With  his  graphic  and  pictur 
esque  pen  he  would  adequately,  they  thought,  fill  the  post. 

In  an  interview  with  the  managing  director  he  was  ap 
proached  upon  the  subject,  and,  needless  to  say,  eagerly 
accepted  the  offer.  It  was  arranged,  therefore,  that,  ac 
companied  by  Charles  D.  Weldon,  one  of  Harpers'  artists, 
he  was  to  start  in  the  beginning  of  the  March  of  1890  for 
the  Far  East. 

Little  did  Hearn  realise  that  the  strange  land  for  which 
he  was  bound  was  to  receive  him  forever,  to  make  him 
one  with  its  religion,  its  institutions,  its  nationality,  and 
that,  as  he  closed  the  door  of  the  publisher's  room  that 
day,  he  was  closing  the  door  between  himself  and  western 
civilisation  forever. 


159 


CHAPTER  XV 
JAPAN 

".  .  .  Yes — for  no  little  time  these  fairy-folk  can  give  you  all 
the  soft  bliss  of  sleep.  But  sooner  or  later,  if  you  dwell  long  with 
them,  your  contentment  will  prove  to  have  much  in  common  with  the 
happiness  of  dreams.  You  will  never  forget  the  dream, — never;  but 
it  will  lift  at  last,  like  those  vapours  of  spring  which  lend  preter 
natural  loveliness  to  a  Japanese  landscape  in  the  forenoon  of  radiant 
days.  Really  you  are  happy  because  you  have  entered  bodily  into 
Fairyland,  into  a  world  that  is  not  and  never  could  be  your  own. 
You  have  been  transported  out  of  your  own  century,  over  spaces 
enormous  of  perished  time,  into  an  era  forgotten,  into  a  vanished 
age, — back  to  something  ancient  as  Egypt  or  Nineveh.  That  is  the 
secret  of  the  strangeness  and  beauty  of  things,  the  secret  of  the  thrill 
they  give,  the  secret  of  the  elfish  charm  of  the  people  and  their  ways. 
Fortunate  mortal !  the  tide  of  Time  has  turned  for  you !  But  remem 
ber  that  all  here  is  enchantment,  that  you  have  fallen  under  the 
spell  of  the  dead,  that  the  lights  and  the  colours  and  the  voices  must 
fade  away  at  last  into  emptiness  and  silence." 

MRS.  WETMORE  is  inaccurate  in  stating  that  Lafcadio 
Hearn  started  for  Japan  on  May  8th,  1890.  She  must 
mean  March,  for  he  landed  in  Yokohama  on  Good  Friday, 
April  13th,  after  a  six  weeks'  journey.  His  paper, 
entitled  "A  Winter  Journey  to  Japan,"  contributed  to 
Harper's,  describes  a  journey  made  in  the  depth  of  win 
ter. 

He  stepped  from  the  railway  depot,  "not  upon  Canadian 
soil,  but  upon  Canadian  ice.  Ice,  many  inches  thick, 
sheeted  the  pavement,  and  lines  of  sleighs,  instead  of  lines 
of  hacks,  waited  before  the  station  for  passengers.  .  .  . 
A  pale-blue  sky  arched  cloudlessly  overhead;  and  grey 
Montreal  lay  angled  very  sharply  in  the  keen  air  over  the 

160 


JAPAN 

frozen  miles  of  the  St.  Lawrence;  sleighs  were  moving, — 
so  far  away  that  it  looked  like  a  crawling  of  beetles;  and 
beyond  the  farther  bank  where  ice-cakes  made  a  high, 
white  ridge,  a  line  of  purplish  hills  arose  into  the  hori 
zon.  .  .  ." 

Hearn's  account  of  his  journey  through  wastes  of 
snow,  up  mountain  sides,  through  long  chasms,  passing 
continually  from  sun  to  shadow,  and  from  shadow  to 
sun,  the  mountains  interposing  their  white  heads,  and  ever 
heaping  themselves  in  a  huge  maze  behind,  are  above  the 
average  of  ordinary  traveller's  prose,  but  there  is  no  page 
that  can  be  called  arresting  or  original.  The  impressions 
seem  to  be  written  to  order,  written,  in  fact,  as  subordinate 
to  the  artist's  illustrations.  So  irksome  did  this  necessity 
of  writing  a  text  to  Weldon's  illustrations  become,  that  it 
is  said  to  have  been  one  of  the  reasons  for  the  rupture  of 
his  contract  with  Harpers  almost  immediately  after  his 
arrival  in  Japan. 

The  seventeen  days  that  he  passed  on  the  northern  Pa 
cific,  with  their  memories  of  heavy  green  seas  and  ghostly 
suns,  the  roaring  of  the  rigging  and  spars  against  the  gale, 
the  steamer  rocking  like  a  cradle  as  she  forced  her  way 
through  the  billowing  waves,  are  well  described.  There  is 
a  weird  touch,  too,  in  his  description  of  the  Chinese  steer 
age  passengers,  playing  the  game  of  "fan-tan"  by  the 
light  of  three  candles  at  a  low  table  covered  with  a  bamboo 
mat. 

Deep  in  the  hold  below  he  imagines  the  sixty  square 
boxes  resembling  tea-chests,  covered  with  Chinese  letter 
ing,  each  containing  the  bones  of  a  dead  man,  bones  being 
sent  back  to  melt  into  that  Chinese  soil  from  whence,  by 
nature's  vital  chemistry,  they  were  shapen  .  .  .  and 
he  imagines  those  labelled  bones  once  crossing  the  same 
ocean  on  just  such  a  ship,  and  smoking  or  dreaming  their 
time  away  in  just  such  berths,  and  playing  the  same 

161 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

strange  play  by  such  a  yellow  light,  in  even  just  such  an 
atmosphere,  heavy  with  vaporised  opium. 

"  Meanwhile,  something  has  dropped  out  of  the  lives  of 
some  of  us,  as  lives  are  reckoned  by  Occidental  time, — a 
day.  A  day  that  will  never  'come  back  again,  unless  we 
return  by  this  same  route, — over  this  same  iron-grey  waste, 
in  the  midst  of  which  our  lost  day  will  wait  for  us, — per 
haps  in  vain." 

Not  from  the  stormy  waters  of  the  Pacific,  however,  not 
from  gleaming  Canadian  pinnacles,  or  virgin  forests,  or 
dim  canons,  was  this  child  of  the  South  and  the  Orient, 
this  interpreter  of  mankind  in  all  his  exotic  and  strange 
manifestations  to  draw  his  inspiration,  but  from  the  val 
leys  and  hill-sides  of  that  immemorial  East  that  stretched 
in  front  of  him,  manured  and  fructified  by  untold  centu 
ries  of  thought  and  valour  and  belief. 

The  spell  fell  on  him  from  the  moment  that,  through 
the  transparent  darkness  of  the  cloudless  April  morning, 
he  caught  sight  of  the  divine  mountain.  The  first  sight 
of  Fuji,  hanging  above  Yokohama  Bay  like  a  snowy  ghost 
in  the  arch  of  the  infinite  day,  is  a  sight  never  to  be  for 
gotten,  a  vision  that,  for  the  years  Hearn  was  yet  to 
traverse  before  the  heavy,  folded  curtain  fell  on  his  stage 
of  life,  was  destined  to  form  the  background  of  his  poetic 
dreams  and  imaginings. 

Mr.  Henry  Watkin  appears  to  have  been  the  first  per 
son  to  whom  Hearn  wrote  from  Japan.  So  great  was  the 
charm  of  this  new  country  that  he  seemed  irresistibly 
called  to  impart  some  of  the  delight  to  those  he  had  left 
behind  in  America.  He  told  him  that  he  passed  much 
of  his  time  in  the  temples,  trying  to  see  into  the  heart  of 
the  strange  people  surrounding  him.  He  hoped  to  learn 
the  language,  he  said,  and  become  a  part  of  the  very  soul 
of  the  people.  He  rhapsodised  on  the  subject  of  the  sim 
ple  humanity  of  Japan  and  the  Japanese.  ...  He 

162 


JAPAN 

loved  their  gods,  their  customs,  their  dress,  their  bird- 
like,  quavering  songs,  their  houses,  their  supersti 
tions,  their  faults.  He  was  as  sure  as  he  was  of  death 
that  their  art  was  as  far  in  advance  of  our  art,  as  old 
Greek  art  was  superior  to  that  of  the  earliest  art  group 
ings.  There  was  more  art  in  a  print  by  Hokousai,  or  those 
who  came  after  him,  than  in  a  $100,000  painting.  Occi 
dentals  were  the  barbarians. 

Most  travellers  when  first  visiting  Japan  see  only  its 
atmosphere  of  elfishness,  of  delicate  fantasticality.  The 
queer  little  streets,  the  quaint  shops  where  people  seem  to 
be  playing  at  buying  and  selling,  the  smiling,  small  people 
in  "geta"  and  "kimono,"  the  mouldering  shrines  with 
their  odd  images  and  gardens ;  but  to  Hearn  a  transfigur 
ing  light  cast  a  ghostly  radiance  on  ordinary  sights  and 
scenes,  opening  a  world  of  suggestion,  and  inspiring  him 
with  an  eloquent  power  of  impressing  upon  others  not  only 
the  visible  picturesqueness  and  oddity  of  Japanese  life, 
but  that  dim  surmise  of  another  and  inscrutable  humanity, 
that  atmosphere  of  spirituality  so  inseparably  a  part  of 
the  religion  Buddha  preached  to  man.  With  almost  sac 
ramental  solemnity,  he  gazed  at  the  strange  ideographs, 
wandered  about  the  temple  gardens,  ascended  the  stair 
ways  leading  to  ancient  shrines.  What  these  experiences 
did  for  his  genius  is  to  be  read  in  the  first  book  inspired  by 
the  Orient  while  he  was  still  under  the  glamour  of  en 
chantment.  Amidst  the  turmoil,  the  rush,  the  struggle  of 
our  monster  City  of  the  West,  if  you  open  his  "Glimpses 
of  Unfamiliar  Japan, ' '  and  read  his  description  of  his  first 
visit  to  a  Buddhist  temple,  you  will  find  the  silence  of 
centuries  descending  upon  your  soul,  the  thrill  of  some 
thing  above  and  beyond  the  commonplace  of  this  everyday 
world.  The  bygone  spirit  of  the  race,  with  its  hidden 
meanings  and  allegories,  its  myths  and  legends,  the  very 
essence  of  the  heart  of  the  people,  that  has  lain  sleeping 

163 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

in  the  temple  gloom,  will  reveal  itself;  the  faint  odour  of 
incense  will  float  to  your  nostrils;  the  shuffling  of  pilgrim 
feet  to  your  ear ;  you  will  see  the  priests  sliding  back  screen 
after  screen,  pouring  in  light  on  the  gilded  bronzes  and 
inscriptions;  involuntarily  you  will  look  for  the  image  of 
the  Deity,  of  the  presiding  spirit  between  the  altar  groups 
of  convoluted  candelabra,  and  you  will  see  "only  a  mir 
ror  !  Symbolising  what  ?  Illusion  ?  Or  that  the  universe 
exists  for  us  solely  as  the  reflection  of  our  own  souls  ?  Or 
the  old  Chinese  teaching  that  we  must  seek  the  Buddha 
only  in  our  hearts  ?  ' ' 

A  storm  soon  passed  across  the  heaven  of  his  dreams. 
He  suddenly  terminated  his  contract  with  Harpers.  "I 
am  starved  out/'  he  wrote  to  Miss  Bisland.  "Do  you 
think  well  enough  of  me  to  try  to  get  me  employment  at 
a  regular  salary,  somewhere  in  the  United  States  ? "  .  »  * 

It  is  said  that  his  reason  for  breaking  with  Harpers 
was  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  relative  position  of 
himself  and  their  artist,  Mr.  Charles  D.  Weldon.  Hearn 
was  expected  to  write  up  to  the  illustrations  of  the  articles 
sent  to  the  magazine,  instead  of  the  illustrations  being 
done  for  Hearn 's  letterpress.  Besides  which,  the  fact 
transpired  that  the  artist  was  receiving  double  Hearn 's 
salary. 

The  little  Irishman  was  a  mixture  of  exaggerated  hu 
mility  and  sensitive  pride  on  the  score  of  his  literary 
work;  always  in  extremes  in  this,  as  in  all  else.  He  was 
also,  as  we  have  seen,  extremely  unbusinesslike;  he  never 
attempted  to  enter  into  an  agreement  of  any  kind.  It 
seems  difficult  to  accept  his  statement  that  his  publishers, 
having  made  a  success  with  "Chita"  and  "Youma"  and 
"Two  Years  in  the  French  West  Indies,"  paid  him  only 
at  the  rate  of  five  hundred  dollars  a  year.  No  doubt  Har 
pers  might  have  been  able  to  put  a  very  different  com 
plexion  on  the  matter.  As  a  proof  of  the  difficulty  in 

164 


JAPAN 

conducting  affairs  with  him,  when  he  threw  up  his  Japa 
nese  engagement  he  declined  to  accept  royalties  on  books 
already  in  print.  Harpers  were  obliged  to  make  arrange 
ments  to  transmit  the  money  through  a  friend  in  Japan, 
and  it  was  only  after  considerable  persuasion  and  a  lapse 
of  several  years  that  he  was  induced  to  accept  it.  So 
often  in  his  career  through  life  Hearn  proved  an  exempli 
fication  of  his  own  statement.  Those  who  are  checked  by 
emotional  feeling,  where  no  check  is  placed  on  competi 
tion,  must  fail.  Uncontrolled  emotional  feeling  was  the 
rock  on  which  he  split,  at  this  and  many  other  critical  mo 
ments  in  his  career. 

He  had  brought  a  letter  of  introduction,  presumably 
from  Harpers,  the  publishers,  to  Professor  Basil  Hall 
Chamberlain,  professor. of  English  literature  at  the  Tokyo 
University,  the  well-known  author  of  "Things  Japanese." 
On  his  arrival,  Hearn  thought  of  obtaining  a  position  as 
teacher  in  a  Japanese  family,  so  as  to  master  the  spoken 
language.  Simply  to  have  a  small  room  where  he  could 
write  would  satisfy  him,  he  told  Professor  Chamberlain, 
and  so  long  as  he  was  boarded  he  would  not  ask  for  re 
muneration.  He  knew,  also,  that  he  could  not  carry  out 
his  fixed  determination  of  writing  a  comprehensive  book 
on  Japan,  without  passing  several  years  exclusively; 
amongst  the  Japanese  people. 

Chamberlain,  however,  saw  at  once  that  Hearn 's  ca 
pacities  were  far  superior  to  those  necessary  for  a  private 
tutorship.  Having  been  so  long  resident  in  Japan,  and 
written  so  much  upon  the  country,  as  well  as  occupying  a 
professorship  in  Tokyo  Imperial  University,  his  influence 
in  Japanese  official  life  was  considerable ;  he  now  bestirred 
himself,  and  succeeded  in  getting  Hearn  an  appointment 
as  English  teacher  in  the  Jinjo  Chugakko,  or  ordinary 
middle  school,  at  Matsue,  in  the  province  of  Izumo,  for  the 
term  of  one  year. 

165 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

A  week  or  two  later  Hearn  was  able  to  announce  to  his 
dear  sister,  Elizabeth,  that  he  was  going  to  become  a  coun 
try  schoolmaster  in  Japan. 

On  several  occasions  Professor  Chamberlain  held  out  the 
kindly  hand  of  comradeship  to  Lafcadio;  to  him  Hearn 
owed  his  subsequent  appointment  at  the  Tokyo  University. 

For  five  or  six  years  the  two  men  were  bound  together 
in  a  close  communion  of  intellectual  enthusiasms  and  mu 
tual  interests,  as  is  easy  to  see  by  the  wonderful  corre 
spondence  recently  published.  To  him  and  to  Paymaster 
Mitchell  McDonald,  Lafcadio  dedicated  his  "Glimpses  of 
Unfamiliar  Japan." 

TO   THE   FRIENDS 

WHOSE  KINDNESS  ALONE  RENDERED  POSSIBLE 
MY  SOJOURN  IN  THE  ORIENT 

PAYMASTER  MITCHELL  McDONALD,  U.S.N. 

AND 

BASIL  HALL  CHAMBERLAIN,  ESQ. 

EMERITUS  PROFESSOR  OF  PHILOLOGY  AND 
JAPANESE  IN  THE  IMPERIAL  UNIVERSITY 

OF   TOKYO 
I   DEDICATE   THESE   VOLUMES 

IN  TOKEN  OF 
AFFECTION    AND    GRATITUDE 

Then  came  a  sudden  break. 

After  Hearn 's  death,  Chamberlain,  in  discussing  the 
subject,  lamented  "the  severance  of  a  connection  with  one 
so  gifted."  He  made  one  or  two  attempts  at  renewal  of 
intercourse,  which  were  at  first  met  with  cold  politeness, 
afterwards  with  complete  silence,  causing  him  to  desist 
from  further  endeavours.  The  key,  perhaps,  to  Hearn 's 

166 


JAPAN 

course  of  action,  is  to  be  found  in  some  observations  that 
he  addresses  to  Professor  Chamberlain  just  before  the 
close  of  their  friendship.  They  had  been  in  correspond 
ence  on  the  subject  of  the  connection  of  the  tenets  of  Bud 
dhism  and  scientific  expositions  of  evolutionary  science  in 
England. 

"Dear  Chamberlain:  In  writing  to  you,  of  course,  I 
have  not  been  writing  a  book,  but  simply  setting  down  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  moment  as  they  come.  .  .  . 

"I  write  a  book  exactly  the  same  way;  but  all  this  has 
to  be  smoothed,  ordinated,  corrected,  toned  over  twenty 
times  before  a  page  is  ready.  ...  I  cannot  help  fear 
ing  that  what  you  mean  by  'justice  and  temper ateness' 
means  that  you  want  me  to  write  as  if  I  were  you,  or  at 
least  to  measure  sentence  or  thought  by  your  standard. 
«  „  .  If  I  write  well  of  a  thing  one  day,  and  badly  an 
other,  I  expect  my  friend  to  discern  that  both  impressions 
are  true,  and  solve  the  contradiction — that  is,  if  my  letters 
are  really  wanted. " 

The  fact  is  that,  if  Hearn  took  up  a  philosophic  or 
scientific  opinion,  he  was  determined  to  make  all  with 
whom  he  held  converse  share  them,  and  if  they  did  not 
do  so  at  once,  like  the  despotic  oriental  monarch,  he  would 
overturn  the  chessboard. 

"The  rigid  character  of  his  philosophical  opinions/' 
says  Chamberlain,  "made  him  perforce  despise  as  intel 
lectual  weaklings  all  those  who  did  not  share  them,  or 
shared  them  in  a  lukewarm  manner,  and  his  disillusion 
ment  with  a  series  of  friends  in  whom  he  had  once  thought 
to  find  intellectual  sympathy  is  seen  to  have  been  inev 
itable/' 

It  was  principally  during  the  last  fourteen  years  of  his 
life  that  Hearn  acquired  the  unenviable  name  of  being 
ungrateful,  inconstant,  and  capricious.  To  those  friends 
made  in  his  youthful  days  of  struggle  and  adversity  he  re- 

167 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

mained  constant,  but  with  the  exception  of  Mitchell  Mc 
Donald,  Nishida  Sentaro,  and  Amenomori,  it  is  the  same 
story  of  perversity  and  estrangement. 

An  unceremonious  entry  into  his  house,  without  defer 
ence  to  ancient  Japanese  etiquette,  which  enjoined  the 
taking  off  of  boots  and  the  putting  on  of  sandals,  a  sneer 
at  Shinto  ancestor  worship,  a  difference  of  opinion  on 
Herbert  Spencer,  and  Hearn  would  disappear  actually  and 
metaphorically.  This  proves  his  want  of  heart,  you  say. 
But  a  careful  study  of  Hearn 's  "Wesen"  will  show  that 
his  apparent  inconstancy  did  not  arise  from  a  change  of 
affection,  but  because  his  very  affection  for  the  people  he 
had  turned  from  made  the  taut  strands  of  friendship  more 
difficult  to  reunite,  especially  for  a  person  of  his  shy  tem 
perament.  "Which  of  us  has  not  recognised  the  greater 
difficulty  of  making  up  a  "tiff"  with  a  friend  for  whom 
one  cares  deeply  than  with  a  person  to  whom  one  is  indif 
ferent?  The  tougher  the  stuff  the  more  ravelled  the 
edges  of  the  tear,  and  the  more  difficult  to  join  together. 

At  Kobe,  an  incident  was  related  to  us  by  Mr.  Young, 
his  chief  on  the  Kobe  Chronicle  and  a  person  to  whom 
Hearn  owed  much  and  was  attached  by  many  ties  of  grati 
tude  and  friendship.  A  guest  at  dinner  ventured  to  dis 
sent  from  Hearn 's  opinion  that  the  reverential  manner  in 
which  people  prostrated  themselves  before  the  mikado  was 
in  no  way  connected  with  religious  principles.  Hearn 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  rose,  walked  away  from  the  table, 
and  nothing  would  induce  him  to  return.  He  did  not,  in 
deed,  enter  Mr.  Young 's  house  again  for  some  days,  though 
doing  his  work  at  the  office  for  the  newspaper  as  usual. 

When  Hearn  left  Tokyo  to  take  up  his  appointment  at 
Matsue,  he  was  accompanied  by  his  friend  Akira,  a  young 
student  and  priest,  who  spoke  English  and  could,  there 
fore,  act  as  interpreter.  At  Kobe  they  left  the  railway  and 
continued  their  journey  in  jinrikishas,  a  journey  of  four 

168 


JAPAN 

days  with  strong  runners,  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Sea  of 
Japan. 

''Out  of  the  city  and  over  the  hills  to  Izumo,  the  Land 
of  the  Ancient  Gods!"  The  incantation  is  spoken,  we 
find  ourselves  in  the  region  of  Horai — the  fairyland  of 
Japan — with  its  arch  of  liquid  blue  sky,  lukewarm,  wind 
less  atmosphere,  an  atmosphere  enormously  old,  but  of 
ghostly  generations  of  souls  blended  into  one  immense 
translucency,  souls  of  people  who  thought  in  ways  never 
resembling  occidental  ways. 

Writing  later  to  Chamberlain,  Hearn  acknowledged  that 
what  delighted  him  those  first  days  in  Japan  was  the 
charm  of  nature  in  human  nature,  and  in  human  art,  sim 
plicity,  mutual  kindness,  child-faith,  gentleness,  politeness 
.  ; .  .  for  in  Japan  even  hate  works  with  smiles  and 
pretty  words. 

For  the  first  time  Hearn  was  not  merely  describing  a 
sensuous  world  of  sights  and  sounds,  but  a  world  of  soft 
domesticity,  where  thatched  villages  nestled  in  the  folds 
of  the  hills,  each  with  its  Buddhist  temple,  lifting  a  tilted 
roof  of  blue-grey  tiles  above  a  congregation  of  thatched 
homesteads.  Can  anything  be  more  delightful  than  his 
description  of  one  of  the  village  inns,  with  its  high-peaked 
roof  of  thatch,  and  green-mossed  eaves,  like  a  coloured 
print  out  of  Hiroshige's  picture-books,  with  its  polished 
stairway  and  balconies,  reflecting  like  mirrored  surfaces 
the  bare  feet  of  the  maid-servants;  its  luminous  rooms 
fresh  and  sweet-smelling  as  when  their  soft  mattings  were 
first  laid  down.  The  old  gold-flowered  lacquer  ware,  the 
diaphanous  porcelain  wine-cups,  the  teacup  holders,  which 
are  curled  lotus  leaves  of  bronze ;  even  the  iron  kettle  with 
its  figurings  of  dragons  and  clouds,  and  the  brazen  hibachi 
whose  handles  are  heads  of  Buddhist  lions;  distant  as  it 
was  from  all  art-centres,  there  was  no  object  visible  in  the 
house  which  did  not  reveal  the  Japanese  sense  of  beauty 

169 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

and  form.  "Indeed,  wherever  to-day  in  Japan  one  sees 
anything  uninteresting  in  porcelain  or  metal,  something 
commonplace  and  ugly,  one  may  be  almost  sure  that  de 
testable  something  has  been  shaped  under  foreign  influ 
ence.  But  here  I  am  in  Ancient  Japan,  probably  no 
European  eyes  ever  looked  upon  these  things  before." 

After  he  had  submitted  to  being  bathed  by  his  land 
lord,  as  if  he  had  been  a  little  child,  and  eaten  a  repast 
of  rice,  eggs,  vegetables  and  sweetmeats,  he  sat  smoking 
his  kis.eru  until  the  moon  arose,  peeping  through  the  heart- 
shaped  little  window  that  looked  out  on  the  garden  be 
hind,  throwing  down  queer  shadows  of  tilted  eaves,  and 
horned  gables,  and  delightful  silhouettes.  Suddenly  a 
measured  clapping  of  hands  became  audible,  and  the  echo 
ing  of  geta,  and  the  tramping  of  wooden  sandals  filled  the 
street.  His  companion,  Akira,  told  him  they  were  all 
going  to  see  the  dance  of  the  Bon-odori  at  the  temple,  the 
dance  of  the  Festival  of  the  Dead,  and  that  they  had  better 
go,  too.  This  dance  of  the  Festival  of  the  Dead  he  de 
scribes  in  his  usual  graphic  way:  the  ghostly  weaving 
of  hands,  the  rhythmic  gliding  of  feet — above  all,  the 
flitting  of  the  marvellous  sleeves,  apparitional,  soundless, 
velvety  as  the  flitting  of  great  tropical  bats.  In  the  midst 
of  the  charmed  circle  there  crept  upon  him  a  nameless, 
tingling  sense  of  being  haunted,  until,  recalled  to  reality 
by  a  song  full  of  sweet,  clear  quavering,  gushing  from 
some  girlish  mouth,  and  fifty  other  voices  joined  in  the 
chant.  "Melodies  of  Europe,"  he  ends,  "awaken  within 
us  feelings  we  can  utter,  sensations  familiar  as  mother- 
speech,  inherited  from  all  the  generations  behind  us.  But 
how  explain  the  emotion  evoked  by  a  primitive  chant,  to 
tally  unlike  anything  in  western  melody,  impossible  even 
to  write  in  those  tones  which  are  the  ideographs  of  our 
music-tongue  ? 

"And  the  emotion  itself — what  is  it?  I  know  not;  yet 

170 


JAPAN 

I  feel  it  to  be  something  infinitely  more  old  than  I,  some 
thing  not  of  only  one  place  or  time,  but  vibrant  to  all  com 
mon  joy  or  pain  of  being,  under  the  universal  sun.  Then 
I  wonder  if  the  secret  does  not  lie  in  some  untaught  spon 
taneous  harmony  of  that  chant  with  Nature 's  most  ancient 
song,  in  some  unconscious  kinship  to  the  music  of  solitudes, 
— all  trillings  of  summer  life  that  blend  to  make  the  great 
sweet  Cry  of  the  Land." 


171 


CHAPTER  XVI 
MATSUE 

"Far  underlying  all  the  surface  crop  of  quaint  superstitions  and 
artless  myths  and  fantastic  magic  there  thrills  a  mighty  spiritual 
force,  the  whole  soul  of  a  race  with  all  its  impulses  and  powers  and 
intuitions.  He  who  would  know  what  Shinto  is  must  learn  to  know 
that  mysterious  soul  in  which  the  sense  of  beauty  and  the  power  of 
art  and  the  fire  of  heroism  and  magnetism  of  loyalty  and  the  emo 
tion  of  faith  have  become  inherent,  immanent,  unconscious,  instinc 
tive." 

THE  year  spent  in  the  quaint  old  city  of  Matsue — 
birth-place  of  the  rites,  mysteries  and  mythologies  of  the 
ancient  religion — was  one  of  the  happiest  and  most  pro 
ductive,  intellectually,  of  Hearn's  career. 

His  "Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar  Japan "  was  the  result. 
It  is  perhaps  not  as  finished  as  some  of  his  later  Japanese 
stories.  Writing  some  years  afterwards,  he  said  that 
when  he  wanted  to  feel  properly  humbled  he  read  about 
half  a  page  of  "Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar  Japan" — then  he 
howled  and  wondered  how  he  ever  could  have  written  so 
badly,  and  found  that  he  was  only  really  a  very  twenty- 
fifth-rate  workman,  and  that  he  ought  to  be  kicked.  Like 
some  of  the  early  poems  of  celebrated  poets,  however, 
though  now  and  then  lacking  in  polish  and  reticence,  the 
glow  of  enthusiasm,  of  surprised  delight,  that  illumines 
every  page  will  always  make  this  book,  in  spite  of  the 
vogue  of  much  of  his  subsequent  work,  the  one  which  is 
most  read  and  by  which  he  is  best  known. 

Here,  amongst  this  bizarre  people,  he  found  his  predi 
lection  for  the  odd,  the  queer,  the  strange,  satisfied  beyond 

172 


MATSUE 

his  utmost  desire.  Matsue  was  not  the  tourists '  Japan,  not 
the  Japan  of  bowler  hats  and  red-brick  warehouses,  but 
the  Japan  where  ancient  faiths  were  still  a  living  force, 
where  old  customs  were  still  followed,  and  ancient  chivalry 
still  an  animating  power. 

How  fresh  and  picturesque  is  his  record  of  the  expe 
riences  of  every  day  and  every  hour  as  they  pass.  We 
hear  it,  and  see  it  all  with  him :  the  first  of  the  noises  that 
waken  a  sleeper  .  .  .  the  measured,  muffled  echoing 
of  the  ponderous  pestle  of  the  cleaner  of  rice,  the  most  pa 
thetic  of  the  sounds  of  Japanese  life;  the  beating,  indeed, 
of  the  pulse  of  the  land;  the  booming  of  the  great  temple 
bell,  signalling  the  hour  of  Buddhist  morning  prayer,  the 
clapping  of  hands,  as  the  people  saluted  the  rising  of 
the  sun,  and  the  cries  of  the  earliest  itinerant  vendors,  the 
sellers  of  daikon  and  other  strange  vegetables  .  .  . 
and  the  plaintive  call  of  the  women  who  hawked  little  thin 
slips  of  kindling-wood  for  the  lighting  of  charcoal  fires. 

Sliding  open  his  little  Japanese  window,  he  looked  out. 
Veiled  in  long  nebulous  bands  of  mist,  the  lake  below 
looked  like  a  beautiful  spectral  sea,  of  the  same  tint  as  the 
dawn-sky  and  mixing  with  it  ...  an  exquisite  chaos, 
as  the  delicate  fogs  rose,  slowly,  very  slowly,  and  the  sun's 
yellow  rim  came  into  sight. 

From  these  early  morning  hours  until  late  at  night 
every  moment  was  packed  full  of  new  experiences,  new 
sensations.  Not  only  was  the  old  city  itself  full  of  strange 
and  unexpected  delights,  but  the  country  round  was  a  land 
of  dreams,  strange  gods,  immemorial  temples. 

One  day  it  was  a  visit  to  the  Cave  of  the  Children's 
Ghosts,  where  at  night  the  shadowy  children  come  to 
build  their  little  stone-heaps  at  the  feet  of  Jizo,  changing 
the  stones  every  night.  Doubtless  in  the  quaint  imagina 
tion  of  the  people  there  still  lingers  the  primitive  idea  of 
some  communication,  mysterious  and  awful,  between  the 

173 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

world  of  waters  and  the  world  of  the  dead.  It  is  always 
over  the  sea,  after  the  Feast  of  Souls,  that  the  spirits  pass 
murmuring  back  to  their  dim  realm,  in  those  elfish  little 
ships  of  straw  which  are  launched  for  them  upon  the  six 
teenth  day  of  the  seventh  moon.  The  vague  idea  behind 
the  pious  act  is  that  all  waters  flow  to  the  sea  and  the  sea 
itself  unto  the  "Nether-distant  Land." 

Then  a  visit  to  Kitzuki  to  visit  the  Buddhist  temple, 
into  whose  holy  precincts  no  European  had  hitherto  been 
admitted.  Senke  Takamori,  the  spiritual  governor  of 
Kitzuki,  whose  princely  family  dated  back  their  ancestry 
to  the  goddess  of  the  sun,  received  him  with  extraordinary 
urbanity.  Senke,  it  appears,  was  connected  with  the 
Koizumis,  the  family  to  which  Hearn's  future  wife  be 
longed. 

To  see  the  ancient  temple  of  Kitzuki  at  that  time  was 
to  see  the  living  centre  of  Shinto,  to  feel  the  life  pulse  of 
the  ancient  cult  throbbing  in  the  nineteenth  century  as 
in  the  unknown  past — that  religion  that  lives  not  in  books, 
nor  ceremonial,  but  in  the  national  heart.  The  magnetism 
of  another  faith  polarised  his  belief.  The  forces  about 
him,  working  imperceptibly,  influenced  him  and  drew 
him  towards  the  religion  of  those  amongst  whom  he  lived, 
moulding  and  forming  that  extraordinary  mixture  of 
thought  and  imagination  that  enabled  him  to  enter  into 
the  very  heart  and  soul  of  ancient  Japan. 

If  ever  a  man  was,  as  religious  people  term  it,  ' '  called, ' ' 
Hearn  was  called  to  the  task  of  interpreting  the  supersti 
tions  and  beliefs  of  this  strange  people.  Putting  jesting 
on  one  side,  he  once  said,  if  he  could  create  something 
unique  and  rare  he  would  feel  that  the  Unknowable  had 
selected  him  for  a  mouthpiece  for  a  medium  of  utterance 
in  the  holy  cycle  of  its  eternal  utterance. 

The  half-blind,  vagrant  little  genius  had  at  last  found 
the  direction  in  which  the  real  development  of  his  genius 

174 


MATSUE 

lay ;  the  loose,  quivering  needle  of  thought,  that  had  moved 
hither  and  thither,  was  now  set  in  one  direction.  The 
stage  he  was  treading,  though  at  first  he  did  not  realise 
it,  was  gradually  becoming  the  sphere  of  a  drama  with 
eternal  and  immutable  forces  as  scene-shifters  and  cur 
tain-raisers.  The  qualities  that  had  enabled  Japan  to 
conquer  China,  and  had  placed  her  practically  in  the 
forefront  of  far  eastern  nations,  he  was  called  upon  to 
analyse  and  explain;  to  interpret  the  curious  myths  of 
this  great  people  of  little  men,  who,  shut  off  from  the 
rest  of  the  world  for  hundreds  of  years,  had,  out  of  their 
own  inner  consciousness,  built  up  a  code  of  discipline  and 
behaviour  that,  in  its  self-abnegation,  its  sense  of  cohesion, 
and  fidelity  to  law,  throws  our  much-vaunted  western 
civilisation  into  the  shade.  Hearn  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  interpretation  a  rare  power  of  using  words,  sympa 
thetic  insight,  an  earnest  and  vivid  imagination  that  en 
abled  him  to  comprehend  the  strongly  accentuated  char 
acteristics  of  a  race  living  close  to  the  origins  of  life; 
barbaric,  yet  highly  refined;  superstitious,  yet  capable  of 
adapting  themselves  to  modern  thought;  playful  as  chil 
dren,  yet  astounding  in  their  heroic  gallantry  and  pa 
triotism.  His  genius  enabled  him  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  indisputable  truth  that  legend  and  tradition  are  a 
science  in  themselves,  that,  however  grotesque,  however 
fantastic  primeval  myths  and  allegories  may  be,  they  are 
indicative  of  the  gradual  evolution  of  the  heart  and  mind 
of  generations  as  they  arise  and  pass  away. 

An  idea,  he  said,  was  growing  upon  him  about  the 
utility  of  superstition,  as  compared  with  the  utility  of 
religion.  In  consequence  of  his  having  elected  to  live 
the  everyday  life,  and  enter  into  the  ordinary  interests 
and  occupations  of  this  strange  people,  as  no  occidental 
ever  had  before,  he  was  enabled  to  see  that  many  Japanese 
superstitions  had  a  sort  of  shorthand  value  in  explaining 

175 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

eternal  and  valuable  things.  When  it  would  have  been 
useless  to  preach  to  people  vaguely  about  morality  or  clean 
liness  or  ordinary  rules  of  health,  a  superstition,  a  belief 
that  certain  infringement  of  moral  law  will  bring  direct  cor- 
.poral  punishment,  that  maligned  spirits  will  visit  a  room 
that  is  left  unswept,  that  the  gods  will  chastise  over-excess 
in  eating  or  drinking,  are  related  to  the  most  inexorable 
and  highest  moral  laws,  and  it  is  easy  to  understand  how 
invaluable  is  the  study  of  their  superstitions  in  analysing 
and  explaining  so  enigmatical  a  people  as  the  Japanese. 

"Hearn  thought  a  great  deal  of  what  we  educated 
Japanese  think  nothing,"  said  a  highly-cultured  Tokyo 
professor  to  me,  with  sarcastic  intonation.  Hearn,  on  the 
other  hand,  maintained  that  not  to  the  educated  Japanese 
must  you  go  to  understand  the  vitality  of  heart  and  in 
telligence  which  through  centuries  of  the  Elder  Life  has 
evolved  so  remarkable  a  nationality.  To  set  forth  the 
power  that  has  moulded  the  character  of  this  far  eastern 
people,  material  must  be  culled  from  the  unsophisticated 
hearts  of  the  peasants  and  the  common  folk.  "The  peo 
ple  make  the  gods,  and  the  gods  the  people  make  are  the 
best."  Hearn  did  not  attempt,  therefore,  a  mechanical 
repetition  of  social  and  religious  tenets ;  but  in  the  mytho 
logical  beliefs,  in  the  legendary  lore  that  has  slumbered 
for  generations  in  simple  minds  he  caught  the  suggestion 
of  obedience  and  fidelity  to  authority,  the  strenuous  in 
dustry  and  self-denial  that  endowed  these  quaint  super 
stitions  with  a  potency  far  beyond  the  religion  and  mean 
ing,  or  the  primitive  idea  that  caused  their  inception. 
Merely  accurate  and  erudite  students  would  call  the  im 
pressions  that  he  collected  here,  in  this  unfamiliar  Japan, 
trifling  and  fantastic,  but  he  is  able  to  prove  that  the  de 
tails  of  ordinary  intercourse,  however  trifling,  the  way  in 
which  men  marry  and  bring  up  their  children,  the  very 
manner  in  which  they  earn  their  daily  bread,  above  all, 

176 


MATSUE 

the  rules  they  impose,  and  the  punishment  and  rewards 
they  invoke  to  have  them  obeyed,  reveal  more  of  the  man 
ner  by  which  the  religion,  the  art,  the  heroism  of  this  far 
eastern  people  have  been  developed,  than  hundreds  of  essays 
treating  of  dynasties,  treaties  and  ceremonials. 

Aided  by  that  very  quality  which  some  may  look  upon 
as  a  mental  defect,  Hearn's  tendency  to  over-emphasise 
an  impressive  moment  at  the  expense  of  accuracy  stood 
him  now  in  good  stead.  Physical  myopia,  he  maintained, 
was  an  aid  to  artistic  work  from  one  aspect :  ' '  The  keener 
the  view,  the  less  depth  in  the  impression  produced.  There 
is  no  possibility  of  attraction  in  wooded  deeps  or  moun 
tain  recesses  for  the  eye  that,  like  the  eye  of  a  hawk,  pierces 
shadow  and  can  note  the  separate  quiver  of  every  leaf." 
So  mental  myopia  united  with  the  shaping  power  of  imagi 
nation  was  more  helpful  in  enabling  him  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  trend  of  thought  and  characteristics  of  the  folk 
whose  country  he  adoped  than  the  piercing  judgment  that 
saw  faults  and  intellectual  short-comings. 

Many  people,  even  the  Japanese  themselves,  have  said 
that  Hearn's  view  in  his  first  book  of  things  in  their 
country  was  too  roseate.  Others  have  declared  that  he 
must  have  been  a  hypocrite  to  write  of  Japan  in  so  enthu 
siastic  a  strain  when  in  private  letters,  such  as  those  to 
Chamberlain  and  Ellwood  Hendrik,  he  expresses  so  great 
a  detestation  for  the  people  and  their  methods.  Those 
who  say  so  do  not  know  the  nature  of  the  man  whom 
they  are  discussing;  compromise  with  those  in  office  was 
entirely  antagonistic  to  his  mode  of  thought.  His  life 
was  composed  of  passing  illusions  and  disillusions.  That 
he,  with  his  artistic  perception,  should  have  been  carried 
off  his  balance  by  the  quaintness  and  mysticism  that  he 
encountered  in  the  outlying  portions  of  the  country  was 
but  natural.  Go  into  the  highlands  of  Japan  amongst  the 
simple  folk,  where  primitive  conditions  still  reign,  where 

177 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  ancient  gods  are  still  believed  to  haunt  the  ancient 
shrines,  where  the  glamour  and  the  grace  of  bygone  civ 
ilisation  still  lingers,  you  will  yield  to  the  same  charm, 
and,  as  Hearn  himself  says,  better  the  sympathetic  than 
the  critical  attitude.  Perhaps  the  man  who  comes  to  Japan 
full  of  hate  for  all  things  oriental  may  get  nearer  the 
truth  at  once,  but  he  will  make  a  kindred  mistake  to  him 
who  views  it  all,  as  I  did  at  first,  almost  with  the  eyes  of  a 
lover. 


178 


CHAPTER  XVII 
MARRIAGE 

"  'Marriage  may  be  either  a  hindrance  or  help  on  the  path,'  the  old 
priest  said,  'according  to  conditions.  All  depends  upon  conditions. 
If  the  love  of  wife  and  child  should  cause  a  man  to  become  too  much 
attached  to  the  temporary  advantages  of  this  unhappy  world,  then 
such  love  would  be  a  hindrance.  But,  on  the  contrary,  if  the  love  of 
wife  and  child  should  enable  a  man  to  live  more  purely  and  more 
unselfishly  than  he  could  do  in  a  state  of  celibacy,  then  marriage 
would  be  a  very  great  help  to  him  in  the  Perfect  Way.  Many  are 
the  dangers  of  marriage  for  the  wise;  but  for  those  of  little  under 
standing,  the  dangers  of  celibacy  are  greater,  and  even  the  illusion  of 
passion  may  sometimes  lead  noble  natures  to  the  higher  knowledge.' " 

HEARN'S  marriage,  as  his  widow  told  us,  took  place 
early  in  the  year  of  1891,  "23rd  of  Meiji."  That  on 
either  side  it  was  one  of  passionate  sentiment  is  doubtful. 
Marriages  in  Japan  are  generally  arranged  on  the  most 
businesslike  footing.  By  the  young  Japanese  man,  it  is 
looked  upon  as  a  natural  duty  that  has  duly  to  be  per 
formed  for  the  perpetuation  of  his  family.  Passion  is  re 
served  for  unions  unsanctioned  by  social  conventions. 

Dominated  as  he  was  by  the  idea  that  his  physical  de 
ficiencies  rendered  a  union  with  one  of  his  own  nation 
ality  out  of  the  question,  he  yet  knew  that  at  his  time  of 
life  he  had  to  enter  into  more  permanent  conditions  with 
the  other  sex  than  hitherto,  or  face  a  future  devoid  of 
settled  purpose  or  stability.  His  state  of  health  also  de 
manded  domestic  comfort  and  feminine  care.  The  only 
alternative  that  presented  itself  to  a  celibate  life  was  to 
choose  a  wife  from  amongst  the  people  with  whom  his  lines 
were  cast. 

179 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

From  the  first  moment  of  his  arrival,  Hearn  had  been 
carried  away  by  enthusiasm  for  the  gentleness,  the  docility, 
of  the  women  of  Japan.  He  compares  them,  much  to 
their  advantage,  with  their  American  sisters.  "In  the 
eternal  order  of  things,  which  is  the  highest  being,  the 
childish,  confiding,  sweet  Japanese  girl,  or  the  occidental 
Circe  women  of  artificial  society,  with  their  enormous 
power  of  evil  and  their  limited  capacity  for  good?"  In 
his  first  letter  to  Miss  Bisland,  he  writes:  "This  is  a 
domesticated  nature,  which  loves  man  and  makes  itself 
beautiful  for  him  in  a  quiet  grey  and  blue  way  like  the 
Japanese  women." 

It  seems  an  unromantic  statement  to  make  with  regard 
to  an  artist  who  has  written  such  exquisite  passages  on 
the  sentiment  that  binds  a  man  to  a  woman,  but  Hearn, 
in  spite  of  his  intellectual  idealism,  had  from  certain  points 
of  view  a  very  material  outlook.  All  considerations — 
even  those  connected  with  the  deepest  emotions  that  stir 
the  human  heart — were  secondary  to  the  necessities  of  his 
genius  and  artistic  life. 

His  intimacy  with  Althea  Foley  in  Cincinnati  was 
prompted  and  fostered  by  gratitude  for  her  care  in  pre 
paring  his  meals,  and  nursing  him  when  ill,  thus  sav 
ing  him  from  the  catastrophe  of  relinquishing  his  posi 
tion  on  the  staff  of  the  Enquirer,  which  meant  not  only 
the  loss  of  all  means  of  subsistence,  but  also  the  possibil 
ity  of  prosecuting  the  ambition  of  his  life — a  literary 
career. 

Now,  at  Matsue,  after  a  touch  of  somewhat  severe  ill 
ness  obliging  him  to  pass  some  weeks  in  bed,  it  became 
really  a  matter  of  life  or  death  that  he  should  give  up  liv 
ing  from  hand  to  mouth  in  country  inns. 

"With  the  Japanese  teacher  of  English  at  the  Matsue 
College,  an  accomplished  English  scholar,  Hearn  had 
formed  a  close  intimacy  from  the  moment  of  his  arrival-, 

180 


MARRIAGE 

an  intimacy,  indeed,  only  broken  by  Nishida  Sentaro's 
death  in  1898. 

"His  the  kind  eyes  that  saw  so  much  for  the  stranger, 
his  the  kind  lips  that  gave  him  so  much  wise  advice,  help 
ing  him  through  the  difficulties  that  beset  him,  in  con 
sequence  of  his  ignorance  of  the  language."  At  the 
beginning  of  his  first  term  Hearn  found  the  necessity  of 
remembering  or  pronouncing  the  names  of  the  boys,  even 
with  the  class-roll  before  him,  almost  an  insurmountable 
difficulty.  Nishida  helped  him;  gave  him  all  the  neces 
sary  instructions  about  hours  and  text-books,  placed  his 
desk  close  to  his,  the  better  to  prompt  him  in  school  hours, 
and  introduced  him  to  the  directors  and  to  the  governor 
of  the  province.  "Out  of  the  East/'  the  volume  written 
later  at  Kumamoto,  was  dedicated  to  Nishida  Sentaro,  "In 
dear  remembrance  of  Izumo  days." 

"  Hearn 's  faith  in  this  good  friend  was  something  won 
derful,"  his  wife  tells  us.  "When  he  heard  of  Nishida 's 
illness,  in  1897,  he  exclaimed:  'I  would  not  mind  losing 
everything  that  belongs  to  me  if  I  could  make  him  well.' 
He  believed  in  him  with  such  a  faith  only  possible  to  a 
child." 

Nishida  Sentaro  was  also  one  of  the  ancient  lineage  and 
caste,  and  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Koizumi  family. 

Matsue  had  been  at  one  time  almost  exclusively  occu 
pied  by  the  Samurai  feudal  lords.  After  throwing  open 
her  doors  to  the  world,  and  admitting  western  civilisa 
tion,  Japan  found  herself  obliged  to  accept,  amongst  other 
democratic  innovations,  the  sweeping  away  of  the  great 
feudal  and  military  past,  reducing  families  of  rank  to 
obscurity  and  poverty.  Youths  and  maidens  of  illustrious 
extraction,  who  had  only  mastered  the  "arts  of  courtesy" 
and  the  "arts  of  war,"  found  themselves  obliged  to  adopt 
the  humblest  occupations  to  provide  themselves  and  their 
families  with  the  means  of  livelihood.  Daughters  of  men 

181 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

once  looked  upon  as  aristocrats  had  to  become  indoor 
servants  with  people  of  a  lower  caste,  or  to  undertake 
the  austere  drudgery  of  the  rice-fields  or  the  lotus-ponds. 
Their  houses  and  lands  were  confiscated — their  heirlooms, 
costly  robes,  crested  lacquer  ware,  passed  at  starvation 
prices  to  those  whom  "misery  makes  rich/'  Amongst  these 
aristocrats  the  Koizumis  were  numbered.  Nishida  Sentaro, 
knowing  their  miserable  circumstances,  and  seeing  how  ad 
visable  it  would  be,  if  it  were  Hearn's  intention  to  re 
main  in  Japan,  to  have  a  settled  home  of  his  own,  formed 
the  idea  of  bringing  about  a  union  between  Setsu  and  the 
English  teacher  at  the  Matsue  College. 

On  his  own  initiative  he  undertook  the  task  of  approach 
ing  his  foreign  friend.  Finding  him  favourably  inclined, 
he  suggested  the  marriage  as  a  suitable  one  to  Setsu 's  par 
ents. 

It  is  supposed  that  marriage  in  Japan  must  be  solem 
nised  by  a  priest,  but  this  is  not  so.  A  Japanese  marriage 
is  simply  a  legal  pledge,  and  is  not  invested  with  any  of 
the  solemnity  and  importance  cast  around  it  in  occidental 
society.  A  union  between  an  Englishman  and  a  Japanese 
woman  can  be  dissolved  with  the  greatest  facility ;  in  fact, 
it  is  seldom  looked  upon  as  an  obligatory  engagement. 
It  is  doubtful  if  Nishida,  when  he  undertook  to  act  as 
intermediary,  or  Nakodo,  as  they  call  it  in  Japan,  looked 
upon  the  contract  entered  into  by  Lafcadio  Hearn  and 
Setsu  Koizumi  as  a  permanent  affair.  Hearn  from  the 
first  took  it  seriously,  but  it  was  certainly  not  until  after 
the  birth  of  his  first  child  that  the  marriage  was  absolutely 
legalised  according  to  English  notions,  and  then  only  by  his 
nationalising  himself  a  Japanese  citizen. 

One  of  Hearn's  saving  qualities  was  compassion  for  the 
weak  and  suffering.  The  young  girl's  surroundings  were 
calculated  to  inspire  the  deepest  pity  in  the  hearts  of  those 
admitted— as  he  was— behind  the  closely  drawn  veil  of 

182 


MARRIAGE 

pride  and  reserve  that  the  Samurai  aristocrats  drew  be 
tween  their  poverty  and  public  observation. 

What  the  Samurai  maiden, — brought  up  in  the  seclu 
sion  of  Matsue — may  have  thought  of  the  grey-haired, 
odd-looking  little  Irishman  of  forty-four  (a  patriarchal 
age  in  Japan),  who  was  offered  to  her  as  a  husband,  we 
know  not.  She  accepted  her  fate,  Japanese  fashion,  and 
as  the  years  went  by  and  she  began  to  appreciate  his  gen 
tlemanly  breeding  and  chivalry,  inherited  as  was  hers  from 
generations  of  well-bred  ancestors,  the  fear  and  bewilder 
ment  with  which  he  filled  her  during  these  first  years  of 
marriage,  changed  to  a  profound  and  true  affection,  in 
deed,  to  an  almost  reverential  respect  for  the  Gakusha 
(learned  person)  who  kept  the  pot  boiling  so  handsomely, 
and  was  run  after  by  all  the  American  and  English  tour 
ists  at  Tokyo. 

So  far  as  we  can  judge  now,  Setsu  Koizumi  can  never 
have  had  any  of  the  exotic  charm  of  the  butterfly  maidens 
of  Kunisada,  or  the  irresistible  fascination  ascribed  to  her 
countrywomen  by  foreign  male  visitors  to  Japan.  The 
Izumo  type  is  not  a  good-looking  one, — the  complexion 
darker  and  less  fresh  than  that  of  the  Tokyo  women — but 
comely,  with  the  comeliness  of  truth,  common-sense  and 
goodness  she  always  must  have  been. 

Tender  and  true,  as  her  Yerbina,  or  personal,  name, 
"  Setsu, "  signifies,  she  had  learned  in  self-denial  and  pov 
erty  the  virtues  of  patience  and  self-restraint — a  daughter 
of  Japan — one  of  a  type  fast  becoming  extinct — who 
deemed  it  a  fault  to  allow  her  personal  trials  to  wound 
other  hearts. 

She  may  not  have  been  obliged  to  submit  to  the  trials 
of  most  Japanese  wives,  the  whims  and  tyranny,  for  in 
stance,  of  her  father-  and  mother-in-law,  or  the  drudgery 
to  provide  for,  or  wait  upon  a  numerous  Japanese  house 
hold;  but  from  many  indications  we  know  that  her  life 

183 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

sometimes  was  not  by  any  means  a  bed  of  roses.  Hu 
morous,  and  at  the  same  time  pathetic,  are  her  reminis 
cences  of  these  first  days  of  marriage,  as  related  in  later 
life. 

"He  was  such  an  intense  nature,"  she  says,  "and  so 
completely  absorbed  in  his  work  of  writing  that  it  made 
him  appear  strange  and  even  outlandish  in  ordinary  life. 
He  even  acknowledged  himself  that  he  must  look  like  a 
madman. ' ' 

During  the  course  of  his  life,  when  undergoing  any 
severe  mental  or  physical  strain,  Hearn  was  subject  to 
periods  of  hysterical  trance,  during  which  he  lost  con 
sciousness  of  surrounding  objects.  There  is  a  host  of 
superstitions  amongst  the  Japanese  connected  with  trances 
or  fainting  fits.  Each  human  being  is  supposed  to  possess 
two  souls.  "When  a  person  faints  they  believe  that  one 
soul  is  withdrawn  from  the  body,  and  goes  on  all  sorts 
of  unknown  and  mysterious  errands,  while  the  other  re 
mains  with  the  envelope  to  which  it  belongs;  but  when 
this  takes  place  a  man  goes  mad;  mad  people  are  those 
who  have  lost  one  of  their  souls.  On  first  seeing  her 
husband  in  this  condition,  the  little  woman  was  so  terrified 
that  she  hastened  to  Nishida  Sentaro  to  seek  advice.  ' '  He 
always  acted  for  us  as  middle-man  in  those  Matsue  days, 
and  I  confess  I  was  afraid  my  husband  might  have  gone 
crazy.  However,  I  found  soon  afterwards  that  it  was  only 
the  time  of  enthusiasm  in  thought  and  writing;  and  I  be 
gan  to  admire  him  more  on  that  account." 

The  calm  and  material  comforts  of  domestic  life  gave 
Hearn,  for  a  time,  a  more  assured  equilibrium,  but  these 
trances  returned  again  with  considerable  frequency  in  later 
days. 

Amenomori,  his  secretary  at  Tokyo,  tells  a  story  of 
waking  one  night  and  seeing  a  light  in  Hearn 's  study. 
He  was  afraid  Hearn  might  be  ill,  and  cautiously  opened 

184 


MARRIAGE 

the  door  and  peeped  in.  There  he  saw  the  little  genius, 
absorbed  in  his  work,  standing  at  his  high  desk,  his  nose 
almost  touching  the  paper  on  which  he  wrote.  Leaf  after 
leaf  was  covered  with  his  small,  delicate  handwriting. 
After  a  while,  Amenomori  goes  on,  he  held  up  his  head, 
"and  what  did  I  see?  It  was  not  the  Hearn  I  was  fa 
miliar  with;  his  face  was  mysteriously  white;  his  eyes 
gleamed.  He  appeared  like  one  in  touch  with  some  un 
earthly  presence." 

Many  other  peculiarities  and  idiosyncrasies  used  to  cause 
his  wife  much  perturbation  of  soul.  "He  had  a  rare  sen 
sibility  of  feeling,"  1  she  says,  "also  peculiar  tastes."  One 
of  his  peculiar  tastes,  apparently,  was  his  love  of  ceme 
teries.  She  could  not  find  out  what  he  found  so  inter 
esting  in  ancient  epitaphs  and  verses.  When  at  Kuma- 
moto  he  told  her  that  he  had  "found  a  pleasant  place." 
When  he  offered  to  take  her  there,  she  found  that  it  was 
through  a  dark  path  leading  to  a  cemetery.  He  said, 
"Stop  and  listen.  Do  you  hear  the  voices  of  the  frogs 
and  the  Uguisu  singing?"  The  poor  little  woman  could 
only  tremble  at  the  dark  and  the  eerieness. 

She  gives  a  funny  picture  of  herself  and  Lafcadio,  in  a 
dry-goods  store,  when  clothes  had  to  be  bought  "at  the 
changing  of  the  season,"  he  selecting  some  gaudy  garment 
with  a  large  design  of  sea-waves  or  spider-nests,  declaring 
the  design  was  superb  and  the  colour  beautiful. 

"I  often  suspected  him,"  the  simple  woman  adds,  "of. 
having  an  unmistakable  streak  of  passion  for  gay  things — 
however,  his  quiet  conscience  held  him  back  from  giving 
way  to  it." 

His  incurable  dislike,  too,  to  conform  to  any  of  the  rules 
of  etiquette — looked  upon  as  all-important  in  Japan,  es- 

i  It  is  well  to  remember  that  Mrs.  Hearn  cannot  speak  or  write  a 
word  of  English;  all  her  "Reminiscences"  are  transcribed  for  her  by 
the  Japanese  poet,  Yone  Noguchi. 

185 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

pecially  for  people  in  official  positions — was  a  continued 
source  of  trouble  to  the  little  woman.  She  could  hardly, 
she  says,  induce  him  to  wear  his  " polite  garments,"  which 
were  de  rigueur  at  any  official  ceremony.  On  one  occa 
sion,  indeed,  he  refused  to  appear  when  the  Emperor  vis 
ited  the  Tokyo  College  because  he  would  not  put  on  his 
frock  coat  and  top  hat. 

The  difficulty  of  language  was  at  first  insuperable. 
After  a  time  they  instituted  the  "Hearn  San  Kotoba,"  or 
Hearnian  language,  as  they  called  it,  but  in  these  Matsue 
days  an  interpreter  had  to  be  employed.  The  "race  prob 
lem,"  however,  was  the  real  complication  that  beset  these 
two.  That  comradeship  such  as  we  comprehend  it  in  Eng 
land  could  exist  between  two  nationalities,  so  fundamen 
tally  different  as  Setsu  Koizumi's  and  Lafcadio  Hearn's, 
is  improbable  if  not  impossible.  "Even  my  own  little 
wife,"  Hearn  writes  years  afterwards,  "is  somewhat  mys 
terious  still  to  me,  though  always  in  a  lovable  way — of 
course  a  man  and  a  woman  know  each  other's  hearts;  but 
outside  of  personal  knowledge,  there  are  race  tendencies 
difficult  to  understand." 


186 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE    KATCHIU-YASHIKI 

"The  real  charm  of  woman  in  herself  is  that  which  comes  after  the 
first  emotion  of  passionate  love  has  died  away,  when  all  illusions 
fade  to  reveal  a  reality  lovelier  than  any  illusion  which  has  been 
evolved  behind  the  phantom  curtain  of  them.  And  again  marriage 
seems  to  me  a  certain  destruction  of  all  emotion  and  suffering.  So 
that  afterwards  one  looks  back  at  the  old  times  with  wonder.  One 
cannot  dream  or  desire  anything  more  after  love  is  transmuted  into 
marriage.  It  is  like  a  haven  from  which  you  can  see  currents  rush 
ing  like  violet  bands  beyond  you  out  of  sight.  It  seems  to  me  (though 
I  am  a  poor  judge  of  such  matters)  that  it  does  not  make  a  man 
any  happier  to  have  an  intellectual  wife,  unless  he  marries  for  society. 
The  less  intellectual,  the  more  capable,  so  long  as  there  is  neither 
coarseness  nor  foolishness;  for  intellectual  converse  a  man  can't  really 
have  with  women.  Woman  is  antagonistic  to  it.  An  emotional  truth 
is  quite  as  plain  to  the  childish  mind,  as  to  the  mind  of  Herbert  Spen 
cer  or  of  Clifford.  The  child  and  the  God  come  equally  near  to  the 
Eternal  truth.  But  then  marriage  in  a  complex  civilisation  is  really 
a  terrible  problem;  there  are  so  many  questions  involved." 

As  summer  advanced  Hearn  found  his  little  two-storeyed 
house  by  the  Ohasigawa — although  dainty  as  a  birdcage — 
too  cramped  for  comfort,  the  rooms  being  scarcely  higher 
than  steamship  cabins,  and  so  narrow  that  ordinary  mos 
quito  nets  could  not  be  suspended  across  them. 

On  the  summit  of  the  hill  above  Matsue  stood  the  an 
cient  castle  of  the  former  daimyo  of  the  province.  In 
feudal  days,  when  the  city  was  under  military  sway,  the 
finest  homesteads  of  the  Samurai  clustered  round  its  Cy 
clopean  granite  walls;  now  owing  to  changed  conditions 
and  the  straitened  means  of  their  owners,  many  of  these 

187 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Eatchiu-yashiki  were  untenanted.  Hearn  and  his  wife 
were  lucky  enough  to  secure  one.  Though  he  no  longer 
had  his  outlook  over  the  lake,  with  the  daily  coming  and 
going  of  fishing-boats  and  sampans,  he  had  an  extended 
view  of  the  city  and  was  close  to  the  university.  But 
above  all  he  found  compensation  in  the  spacious  Japanese 
garden,  outcome  of  centuries  of  cultivation  and  care. 

The  summer  passed  in  this  Japanese  Tashiki  was  as 
happy  as  any  in  Hearn 's  life,  and  one  to  which  he  per 
petually  looked  back  with  longing  regret.  Wandering 
from  room  to  room,  sitting  in  sunned  spaces  where  leaf 
shadows  trembled  on  the  matting,  or  gazing  into  the  soft 
green,  dreamy  peace  of  the  landscape  garden,  he  found 
a  sanctuary  where  the  soul  stopped  elbowing  and  tramp 
ling,  and  being  elbowed  and  trampled — a  free,  clear  space, 
where  he  could  see  clearly,  breathe  serenely,  fully.  Dis 
cussions  with  publishers,  differences  of  opinion  with  friends 
were  soothed  and  forgotten;  his  domestic  arrangements 
seemed  all  that  he  could  have  expected,  and,  as  he  was 
receiving  a  good  salary,  and  life  was  not  expensive  in  the 
old  city,  money  difficulties  for  the  moment  receded  into  the 
back-ground.  His  health  improved.  He  weighed,  he  said, 
twenty  pounds  more  than  he  did  when  he  first  arrived 
.  .  .  but,  he  adds,  this  is  perhaps  because  I  am  eating 
three  full  meals  a  day  instead  of  two. 

Echoes  from  the  outer  world  reached  him  at  intervals, 
such  as  the  announcement  of  the  marriage  of  Miss  Eliza 
beth  Bisland. 

He  describes  himself  as  dancing  an  Indian  war-dance  of 
exultation  in  his  Japanese  robes,  to  the  unspeakable  aston 
ishment  of  his  placid  household.  After  which  he  passed 
two  hours  in  a  discourse  in  "the  Hearnian  dialect."  Sub 
ject  of  exultation  and  discourse — the  marriage  of  Miss 
Elizabeth  Bisland. 

Hearn 's  description  of  the  old  TasMki  garden  is  done 

188 


THE  KATCHIU-YASHIKI 

with  all  the  descriptive  charm  of  which  he  was  a  master. 
Many  others  have  described  Japanese  gardens,  but  none 
have  imparted  the  mentaL  ' '  atmosphere, ' '  the  special  pe 
culiarities  that  make  them  so  characteristic  of  the  genius 
of  the  people  that  have  originated  them.  It  is  impossible 
to  find  space  to  follow  him  into  all  the  details  of  his 
' '  garden  folk  lore ' '  as  he  calls  it ;  of  Hi  jo,  things  without 
desire,  such  as  stones  and  trees,  and  Ujo,  things  having 
desire,  such  as  men  and  animals,  the  miniature  hills  clothed 
with  old  trees,  the  long  slopes  of  green,  shadowed  by 
flowering  shrubs,  like  river  banks,  verdant  elevations  rising 
from  spaces  of  pale  yellow  sand,  smooth  as  a  surface  of 
silk,  miming  the  curves  and  meanderings  of  a  river  course. 
Much  too  beautiful,  these  sanded  spaces,  to  be  trodden  on; 
the  least  speck  of  dirt  would  mar  their  effect,  and  it  re 
quired  the  trained  skill  of  an  experienced  native  gar 
dener — a  delightful  old  man — to  keep  them  in  perfect  form. 

Lightly  and  daintily  as  the  shadows  of  the  tremulous 
leaves  of  the  bamboo-grove  and  the  summer  light  that 
touches  the  grey  stone  lanterns,  and  the  lotus  flowers  on 
the  pond,  so  does  his  genius  flit  from  subject  to  subject, 
conjuring  up  and  idealising  ancient  tradition  and  super 
stitions.  The  whole  of  his  work  seems  transfused  with 
mystic  light. 

We  can  hear  him  talking  with  Kinjuro,  the  venerable 
gardener;  we  can  catch  the  song  of  the  caged  Uguisu,  an 
inmate  of  the  establishment,  presented  to  him  by  one  of  the 
sweetest  ladies  in  Japan,  the  daughter  of  the  Governor  of 
Izumo. 

The  Uguisu,  or  Japanese  nightingale,  is  supposed  to  re 
peat  over  and  over  again  the  sacred  name  of  the  Sutras, 
'  *  Ho-ke-kyo, "  or  Buddhist  confession  of  faith.  First  the 
warble;  then  a  pause  of  about  five  seconds,  then  a  slow, 
sweet,  solemn  utterance  of  the  holy  name. 

They  planted,  his  wife  tells  us,  some  morning  glories 

189 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

in  summer.  He  watched  them  with  the  greatest  delight, 
until  they  bloomed,  and  then  was  equally  wretched  when 
he  saw  them  withering. 

One  early  winter  morning  he  noticed  one  tiny  bloom, 
in  spite  of  the  sharp  frost;  he  was  delighted  and  sur 
prised,  and  exclaimed  in  Japanese,  "Utsukushii  yuki, 
anata,  nanbo  shojik"  (What  a  lovely  courage,  what  a  se 
rious  intention). 

When,  the  next  morning,  the  old  gardener  picked  it, 
Hearn  was  in  despair.  "That  old  man  may  be  good  and 
innocent,  but  he  was  brutal  to  my  flower,"  he  said.  He 
was  depressed  all  day  after  this  incident. 

He  had  already,  he  declared,  become  a  little  too  fond 
of  his  dwelling-place;  each  day  after  returning  from  his 
college  duties  and  exchanging  his  teacher's  uniform  for 
the  infinitely  more  comfortable  'Japanese  robe,  he  found 
more  than  compensation  for  the  weariness  of  five  class^ 
hours  in  the  simple  pleasure  of  squatting  on  the  shady 
verandah  overlooking  the  gardens.  The  antique  garden 
walls,  high  mossed  below  their  ruined  coping  of  tiles, 
seemed  to  shut  out  even  the  murmur  of  the  city's  life. 
There  were  no  sounds  but  the  voices  of  birds,  the  shrilling 
of  semi,  or,  at  intervals,  the  solitary  splash  of  a  diving 
frog,  and  those  walls  secluded  him  from  much  more  than 
city  streets ;  outside  them  hummed  the  changed  Japan  tele 
graphs,  and  newspapers,  and  steam-ships.  Within  dwelt 
the  all-reposing  peace  of  nature,  and  the  dreams  of  the 
sixteenth  century;  there  was  a  charm  of  quaintness  in 
the  very  air,  a  faint  sense  of  something  viewless  and  sweet ; 
perhaps  the  gentle  beauty  of  dead  ladies  who  lived  when  all 
the  surroundings  were  new.  For  they  were  the  gardens 
of  the  past.  The  future  would  know  them  only  as  dreams, 
creations  of  a  forgotten  art,  whose  charm  no  genius  could 
produce. 

The  working  of  Hearn 's  heart  and  mind  at  this  time 

190 


THE  KATCHIU-YASHIKI 

is  an  interesting  psychological  study.  He  had  been  wont 
to  declare  that  his  vocation  was  a  monastic  one.  He  now 
initiated  an  asceticism  as  severe  in  its  discipline  as  that 
of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  on  the  Umbrian  hills.  The  code 
on  which  he  moulded  his  life  was  formulated  according  to 
the  teaching  of  the  great  Gautama.  If  the  soul  is  to  attain 
life  and  effect  progress,  continual  struggle  against  tempta 
tion  is  necessary.  Appetites  must  be  restrained.  Indul 
gence  means  retrogression. 

It  is  not  without  a  sense  of  amusement  that  we  ob 
serve  the  complex  personality,  Lafcadio  Hearn,  in  the 
Matsue  phase  of  self-suppression  and  discipline.  Well 
might  Kinjuro,  the  old  gardener,  tell  him  that  he  had 
seven  souls.  A  dignified  university  professor  had  taken 
the  place  of  the  erratic  Bohemian  who  frequented  the 
levee  at  Cincinnati,  and  of  the  starving  little  journalist 
who,  arrayed  in  reefer  coats,  flannel  shirt,  and  outlandish 
hat,  used  to  appear  in  the  streets  of  New  Orleans.  Now 
clad  in  official  robes,  he  passed  out  through  a  line  of  pros 
trate  servants  on  his  way  to  college,  each  article  of  cloth 
ing  having  been  handed  to  him,  as  he  dressed,  with  endless 
bows  of  humility  and  submission  by  the  daughter  of  a  line 
of  feudal  nobles. 

He  gives  to  his  sister  the  same  account  of  his  austere, 
simple  day,  as  to  Basil  Hall  Chamberlain :  the  early  morn 
ing  prayer  and  greeting  of  the  sun,  his  meals  eaten  alone 
before  the  others,  the  prayers  again  at  eventide,  some  of 
them  said  for  him  as  head  of  the  house.  Then  the  little 
lamps  of  the  Jcami  before  the  shrine  were  left  to  burn  until 
they  went  out;  while  all  the  household  waited  for  him  to 
give  the  signal  for  bedtime,  unless,  as  sometimes,  he  be 
came  so  absorbed  in  writing  as  to  forget  the  hour. 

Sometimes,  however,  in  spite  of  severe  discipline  and 
mortification  of  the  flesh,  ghostly  reminders  returned  to 
prove  that  the  old  self  was  very  real  indeed. 

191 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

The  "Markham  Girl"  is  certainly  well  done.  "I  asked 
myself:  'If  it  was  I?'  and  conscience  answered:  'If  it 
was  you,  in  spite  of  love,  and  duty,  and  honour,  and  Hell 
fire  staring  you  in  the  face,  you  would  have  gone  after 
her.  .  .  .'  "  Then  he  adds  a  tirade  as  to  his  being  a 
liar  and  quibbler  when  he  attempts  to  contradict  the  state 
ment,  "and  that's  why  I  am  poor  and  unsuccessful,  void 
of  mental  balance,  and  an  exile  in  Japan. " 

Or  a  sinister  note  is  struck,  as  in  a  letter  to  Basil  Hall 
Chamberlain,  alluding  to  a  story  in  Goethe's  "Wilhelm 
Meister,"  "The  New  Melusine,"  of  which  the  application 
is  apparent.  A  man  was  loved  by  a  fairy;  and  she  told 
him  she  must  either  say  good-bye,  or  that  he  must  become 
little  like  herself  and  go  to  dwell  with  her  in  her  father's 
kingdom.  She  put  a  gold  ring  on  his  finger  that  made 
him  small,  and  they  entered  into  their  tiny  world.  The 
man  was  greatly  petted  by  the  fairy  folk,  and  had  every 
thing  given  to  him  which  he  could  desire.  In  spite  of 
it  all,  however,  although  he  had  a  pretty  child  too,  he  be 
came  ungrateful  and  selfish  and  got  tired,  and  dreamed 
of  being  a  giant.  He  filed  the  ring  off  his  finger,  and  be 
came  big  again,  and  ran  away  to  spend  the  gold  in  riotous 
living.  "The  fairy  was  altogether  Japanese — don't  you 
think  so  ?  And  the  man  was  certainly  a  detestable  fellow. " 

Though  the  little  man  permitted  himself  such  outbursts 
as  this  on  paper,  he  soon  crept  back  to  the  grim  reality  of 
a  wooden  pillow  and  Japanese  food;  back  to  a  kingdom 
undisturbed  by  electrical  storms  of  passion,  to  interviews 
with  college  students  and  communion  with  a  wife  whose 
knowledge  was  circumscribed  by  Kanbara's  "Greater 
Knowledge  for  Women." 

"Never  be  frightened  at  anything  but  your  own  heart, " 
he  writes  to  one  of  these  Matsue  pupils,  when  giving  him 
good  advice  some  years  later.  Poor  Lafcadio !  Good  rea 
son  had  he  to  be  frightened  of  that  wild,  wayward,  un- 

192 


THE  KATCHIU-YASHIKI 

disciplined  heart  that  so  often  had  betrayed  him  in  days 
gone  by. 

When  in  Japan  we  heard  whispers  of  Hearn  having 
fallen  a  victim  to  the  wiles  of  the  accomplished  ladies  who 
abide  in  the  street  of  the  Geisha.  After  his  marriage  to 
Setsu  Koizumi,  however,  not  even  from  his  enemies,  and 
their  name  was  legion,  at  Kumamoto,  Kobe,  or  Tokyo, 
did  we  ever  hear  the  faintest  suggestion  of  scandal  con 
nected  with  his  name.  In  Japan,  where  there  is  no  privacy 
of  any  sort  in  everyday  life,  where,  if  a  man  is  faithless  to 
his  wife,  all  the  quarter  where  he  lives  knows  of  it,  and 
the  wife  accepts  it  as  her  Ingwa — or  sin  in  a  former  state 
of  existence — it  would  have  been  impossible  for  Hearn  to 
have  stepped  over  the  line,  however  tentatively,  without 
its  being  known  and  talked  about. 

A  pleasant  vision  is  the  one  we  conjure  up  of  him  on 
the  verandah  of  the  old  Yashiki,  squatted,  Buddha-wise, 
smoking  a  tiny  long-stemmed  Japanese  pipe,  his  little  wife 
seated  near  him,  relating,  by  the  aid  of  the  interpreter, 
the  superstitions  and  legends  of  the  ancient  Province  of  the 
Gods. 

She  tells  us  how  he  took  even  the  most  trivial  tale  to 
heart,  murmuring,  "How  interesting,"  his  face  sometimes 
even  turning  pale  while  he  looked  fixedly  in  front  of  him. 

Under  these  conditions  of  tranquillity  and  well-being 
his  genius  seemed  to  expand  and  develop.  The  "Shira- 
byoshi,"  x  or  "Dancing  Girl,"  the  finest  piece  of  imagina 
tive  work  he  ever  did,  was  conceived  and  written  during 
the  course  of  the  summer  passed  in  the  old  YasJiiki.  Its 
first  inception  is  indicated  in  a  letter  to  Basil  Hall  Cham 
berlain,  in  1891.  "There  was  a  story  some  time  ago  in 
the  Asahi-shimbun 2  about  a  '  Shirabyoshi/  that  brought 

1  "Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar  Japan,"  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

2  The  Asahi-shimlun  was  one  of  the  principal  Japanese  illustrated 
daily  papers,  printed  and  published  at  Osaka. 

193 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

tears  to  my  eyes,  as  slowly  and  painfully  translated  by  a 
friend." 

The  "Dancing  Girl"  has  been  translated  into  four  for 
eign  languages — German,  Swedish,  French  and  Italian — 
a  writer  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  declares  it  to  be 
one  of  the  love-stories  of  the  world.  The  only  remarka 
ble  fact  is,  that  it  has  not  made  more  of  a  stir  in  England. 

The  hero  is  the  well-known  Japanese  painter  Buncho; 
the  heroine  a  Geisha.  There  is  something  simple,  natural, 
tragic  and  yet  intangible  and  ethereal  in  the  manner  in 
which  Hearn  tells  it;  the  presence  of  a  vital  spirit,  the 
essential  element  of  passion  and  regret,  the  throb  of  warm 
human  emotion,  in  spite  of  its  exotic  setting,  brings  it  into 
kinship  with  the  human  experience  of  all  times  and  coun 
tries.  There  is  no  attempt  at  scenery,  only  a  woman  hid 
den  away  in  the  heart  of  nature,  in  a  lonely  cottage  amongst 
the  hills,  with  her  love,  her  memory,  her  regret.  Into  this 
solitary  life  enters  youth,  attractive,  beautiful,  the  possi 
bility  of  further  romance ;  but  no  romance  other  than  the 
one  she  cherishes  is  for  her. 

Unfortunately  it  is  only  possible  to  give  the  merest  sketch 
of  the  story  that  Hearn  unfolds  with  consummate  ar 
tistic  skill.  He  begins  with  an  account  of  dancing-girls, 
of  the  education  they  have  to  undergo,  how  they  use 
their  accomplishments  to  cast  a  web  of  enchantment  over 
men. 

It  is  one  of  these  apparently  soulless  creatures,  a  dancing- 
girl,  a  woman  of  the  town,  wearing  clothes  belonging 
neither  to  maid  nor  wife,  that  he  makes  the  central  figure 
of  his  story;  and  by  her  constancy  to  ideal  things,  her 
pure  and  simple  passion,  he  thrills  us  through  with  the 
sense  of  the  impermanence  of  humanity  and  beauty,  and 
the  strength  of  love  overcoming  and  conquering  the  tragedy 
of  life. 

How  different  the  manner  in  which  he  treats  the  scenes 

194 


THE  KATCHIU-YASHIKI 

between  the  young  man  and  the  beautiful  dancing-girl, 
compared  to  the  manner  in  which  his  French  prototypes — 
in  which  Pierre  Loti,  for  instance,  whom  Ilearn  declares 
to  be  one  of  the  greatest  living  artists — would  have  treated 
it.  Far  ahead  has  he  passed  beyond  them;  the  moral,  the 
life  of  the  soul,  is  never  lost  sight  of,  in  not  one  line  does 
he  play  on  the  lower  emotions  of  his  readers. 

A  young  artist  was  travelling  on  foot  over  the  moun 
tains  from  Kyoto  to  Yeddo,  and  lost  his  way.  .  .  .  He 
had  almost  resigned  himself  to  passing  the  night  under 
the  stars,  when,  down  the  farther  slope  of  the  hill,  a  single 
thin  yellow  ray  of  light  fell  upon  the  darkness.  Making 
his  way  towards  it,  he  found  that  it  was  a  small  cottage, 
apparently  a  peasant's  house.  .  .  .  Not  until  he  had 
knocked  and  called  several  times,  did  he  hear  any  stir.  At 
last,  however,  a  feminine  voice  asked  what  he  wanted. 
He  told  her,  and  after  a  brief  delay  the  storm  doors  were 
pushed  open  and  a  woman  appeared  with  a  paper  lantern. 
She  scrutinised  him  in  silence,  and  then  said  briefly, 
"Wait,  I  will  bring  water."  .Having  washed  from  his 
feet  the  dust  of  travel,  he  was  shown  into  a  neat  room, 
and  a  brazier  was  set  before  him,  and  a  cotton  zabuton 
for  him  to  kneel  upon.  He  was  struck  by  the  beauty  of  his 
hostess,  as  well  as  by  her  goodness,  when  she  told  him  that 
he  might  stay  there  that  night.  .  .  .  "I  will  have  no 
time  to  sleep  to-night, "  she  said,  "therefore  you  can  have 
my  bed  and  paper  mosquito  curtain." 

After  he  had  slept  a  while,  the  mysterious  sound  of 
feet  moving  rapidly  fell  upon  his  ears;  he  slipped  out  of 
bed,  and  creeping  to  the  edge  of  the  screen,  peeped  through. 
There  before  her  illuminated  Butsudan,  he  saw  the  young 
woman  dancing.  Turning  suddenly  she  met  his  eyes,  but 
before  he  had  time  to  speak,  she  smiled:  "You  must 
have  thought  me  mad  when  you  saw  me  dancing,  and  I 
am  not  angry  with  you  for  trying  to  find  out  what  I  was 

195 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

doing."  Then  she  went  on  to  tell  him  how  a  youth  and 
she  had  fallen  in  love  with  one  another,  and  how  they  had 
gone  away  and  built  the  cottage  in  the  mountains,  and  each 
evening  she  had  danced  to  please  him.  One  cold  winter 
lie  fell  sick  and  died;  since  then  she  had  lived  alone  with 
nothing  to  console  her  but  the  memory  of  her  lover,  laying 
daily  before  his  tablet  the  customary  offerings,  and  nightly 
dancing  to  please  his  spirit. 

After  she  had  told  her  tale,  she  begged  the  young  man 
to  go  back  and  try  again  to  sleep. 

On  leaving  next  morning,  he  wanted  to  pay  for  the  hos 
pitality  he  had  received.  ''What  I  did  was  done  for  kind 
ness  alone,  and  it  certainly  was  not  worth  money, "  she 
said,  as  she  dismissed  him.  Then,  pointing  out  the  path 
he  had  to  follow,  she  watched  him  until  he  passed  from 
sight,  his  heart,  as  he  went,  full  of  the  charm  and  beauty 
of  the  woman  he  had  left  behind. 

Many  years  passed  by ;  the  painter  had  become  old,  and 
rich,  and  famous.  One  day  there  came  to  his  house  an  old 
woman,  who  asked  to  speak  with  him.  The  servants,  think 
ing  her  a  common  beggar,  turned  her  away,  but  she  came 
so  persistently  that  at  last  they  had  to  tell  their  master. 
When,  at  his  orders,  the  old  woman  was  admitted,  she 
began  untying  the  knots  of  a  bundle  she  had  brought  with 
her;  inside  were  quaint  garments  of  silk,  a  wonderful  cos 
tume,  the  attire  of  a  Shirabyoshi. 

With  many  beautiful  and  pathetic  touches,  Hearn  tells 
how,  as  he  watched  her  smooth  out  the  garments  with  her 
trembling  fingers,  a  memory  stirred  in  the  master's  brain; 
again  in  the  soft  shock  of  recollection,  he  saw  the  lonely 
mountain  dwelling  in  which  he  had  received  unremuner- 
ated  hospitality,  the  faintly  burning  light  before  the  Bud 
dhist  shrine,  the  strange  beauty  of  a  woman  dancing  there 
alone  in  the  dead  of  the  night.  "  Pardon  my  rudeness 
for  having  forgotten  your  face  for  the  moment,"  he  said, 

196 


THE  KATCHIU-YASHIKI 

as  he  rose  and  bowed  before  her,  "but  it  is  more  than 
forty  years  since  we  last  saw  each  other;  you  received  me 
at  your  house.  You  gave  up  to  me  the  only  bed  you  had. 
I  saw  you  dance  and  you  told  me  all  your  story. ' ' 

The  old  woman,  quite  overcome,  told  him  that,  in  the 
course  of  years,  she  had  been  obliged,  through  poverty, 
to  part  with  her  little  house,  and,  becoming  weak  and  old, 
could  no  longer  dance  each  evening  before  the  Butsudan. 
Therefore,  she  had  sought  out  the  master,  since  she  de 
sired  for  the  sake  of  the  dead  a  picture  of  herself  in  the 
costume  and  attitude  of  the  dance  that  she  might  hang 
it  up  before  the  Butsudan.  "I  am  not  now  as  I  was  then," 
she  added.  "But,  oh,  master,  make  me  young  again. 
Make  me  beautiful  that  I  may  seem  beautiful  to  him,  for 
whose  sake  I,  the  unworthy,  beseech  this!" 

He  told  her  to  come  next  day,  and  that  he  only  would 
be  too  delighted  to  thus  repay  the  debt  he  had  owed  her 
for  so  many  years.  So  he  painted  her,  as  she  had  been 
forty  years  before.  When  she  saw  the  picture,  she  clasped 
her  hands  in  delight,  but  how  was  she  ever  to  repay  the 
master?  She  had  nothing  to  offer  but  her  Shirabyoshi 
garments.  He  took  them,  saying  he  would  keep  them  as 
a  memory,  but  that  she  must  allow  him  to  place  her  beyond 
the  reach  of  want. 

No  money  would  she  accept,  but  thanking  him  again 
and  again,  she  went  away  with  her  treasure.  The  master 
had  her  followed,  and  on  the  next  day  took  his  way  to 
the  district  indicated  amidst  the  abodes  of  the  poor  and 
outcast.  He  tapped  on  the  door  of  the  old  woman 's  dwell 
ing,  and  receiving  no  answer  pushed  open  the  shutter,  and 
peered  through  the  aperture.  As  he  stood  there  the  sen 
sation  of  the  moment  when,  as  a  tired  lad,  forty  years 
before,  he  had  stood,  pleading  for  admission  to  the  lone 
some  little  cottage  amongst  the  hills,  thrilled  back  to  him. 

Entering  softly,  he  saw  the  woman  lying  on  the  floor 

197 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

seemingly  asleep.  On  a  rude  shelf  he  recognised  the  an 
cient  Butsudan  with  its  tablet,  and  now,  as  then,  a  tiny 
lamp  was  burning ;  in  front  of  it  stood  the  portrait  he  had 
painted. 

''The  master  called  the  sleeper's  name  once  or  twice. 
Then,  suddenly,  as  she  did  not  answer,  he  saw  that  she 
was  dead,  and  he  wondered  while  he  gazed  upon  her  face, 
for  it  seemed  less  old.  A  vague  sweetness,  like  the  ghost 
of  youth,  had  returned  to  it ;  the  wrinkles  and  the  lines  of 
sorrow  had  been  strangely  smoothed  by  the  touch  of  a 
phantom  Master  mightier  than  he. ' ' 


198 


CHAPTER  XIX 
KUMAMOTO 

"Of  course  Urashima  was  bewildered  by  the  gods.  But  who  is  not 
bewildered  by  the  gods?  What  is  Life  itself  but  a  bewilderment? 
And  Urashima  in  his  bewilderment  doubted  the  purpose  of  the  gods, 
and  opened  the  box.  Then  he  died  without  any  trouble,  and  the 
people  built  a  shrine  to  him  as  Urashima  Mio-jin.  .  .  . 

"These  are  quite  differently  managed  in  the  West.  After  disobey 
ing  Western  gods,  we  have  still  to  remain  alive  and  to  learn  the 
height  and  the  breadth  and  the  depth  of  superlative  sorrow.  We  are 
not  allowed  to  die  quite  comfortably  just  at  the  best  possible  time: 
much  less  are  we  suffered  to  become  after  death  small  gods  in  our 
own  right.  How  can  we  pity  the  folly  of  Urashima  after  he  had  lived 
so  long  alone  with  visible  gods? 

"Perhaps  the  fact  that  we  do  may  answer  the  riddle.  This  pity 
must  be  self-pity ;  wherefore  the  legend  may  be  the  legend  of  a  myriad 
souls.  The  thought  of  it  comes  just  at  a  particular  time  of  blue  light 
and  soft  wind, — and  always  like  an  old  reproach.  It  has  too  inti 
mate  relation  to  a  season  and  the  feeling  of  a  season  not  to  be  also 
related  to  something  real  in  one's  life,  or  in  the  lives  of  one's  an 
cestors." 

ONLY  for  a  year  did  Hearn's  sojourn  in  Fairyland  last. 
The  winter  following  his  arrival  was  a  very  severe  one. 
The  northern  coast  of  Japan  lies  open  to  the  Arctic  winds 
blowing  over  the  snow-covered  plains  of  Siberia.  Heavy 
falls  of  snow  left  drifts  five  feet  high  round  the  Tashiki 
on  the  hill.  The  large  rooms,  so  delightful  in  the  summer 
with  their  verandah  opening  on  the  garden,  were  cold  as 
"cattle  barns"  in  winter,  with  nothing  but  charcoal  bra 
ziers  to  heat  them.  He  dare  not  face  another  such  ex 
perience,  and  asked,  if  possible,  to  be  transferred  to 
warmer  quarters.  Aided  again  by  his  friend,  Professor 

199 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Chamberlain,  the  authorities  at  Tokyo  were  induced  to  give 
him  the  professorship  of  English  at  the  Imperial  Univer 
sity  at  Kumamoto. 

Kumamoto  is  situated  in  Kyushu,  facing  Formosa  and 
the  Chinese  coast;  the  climate,  therefore,  is  much  milder 
than  that  of  Matsue.  Here,  however,  began  Hearn's  first 
disillusionment;  like  Urashima  Taro,  having  dwelt  within 
the  precincts  of  Fairyland  he  felt  the  shock  of  returning 
to  Earth  again.  The  city  struck  him  as  being  ugly  and 
commonplace,  a  half-Europeanised  garrison  town,  resound 
ing  to  the  sounds  of  bugles  and  the  drilling  of  soldiers,  in 
stead  of  pilgrim  songs  and  temple  bells.  "But  Lord!  I 
must  try  to  make  money ;  for  nothing  is  sure  in  Japan  and 
I  am  now  so  tied  down  to  the  country  that  I  can't  quit 
it,  except  for  a  trip,  whether  the  Government  employs  me 
or  not" 

He  began  to  look  back  with  regret  to  the  days  passed 
at  Matsue.  "You  must  travel  out  of  Izumo,"  he  said, 
"after  a  long  residence,  and  find  out  how  unutterably 
different  it  is  from  other  places, — for  instance,  this  coun 
try  .  .  .  the  charming  simplicity  of  the  Izumo  folk 
does  not  here  exist." 

All  his  Izumo  servants  had  accompanied  him  to  his  new 
quarters,  and  apparently  all  his  wife's  family,  for  he  men 
tions  the  fact  that  he  has  nine  lives  dependent  upon  him: 
wife,  wife's  mother,  wife's  father,  wife's  adopted  mother, 
wife's  father's  father,  then  servants,  and  a  Buddhist  stu 
dent. 

This  wouldn't  do  in  America,  he  says  to  Ellwood  Hen- 
drik,  but  it  is  nothing  in  Japan.  The  moral  burden,  how 
ever,  was  heavy  enough;  he  indulged  in  the  luxury  of 
filial  piety,  and  it  was  impossible  to  let  a  little  world  grow 
up  round  him,  to  depend  on  him,  and  then  break  it  all 
•up — the  good  and  evil  results  of  "filial  piety"  are  only 
known  to  orientals,  and  an  oriental  he  had  now  become. 

200 


KUMAMOTO 

His  people  felt  like  fish  out  of  water,  everything  surround 
ing  them  was  so  different  from  their  primitive  home  in 
Izumo.  A  goat  in  the  next  yard,  "mezurashii  Jcedamono," 
filled  his  little  wife  with  an  amused  wonder.  Some  geese 
and  a  pig  also  filled  her  with  surprise,  such  animals  did 
not  exist  in  the  highlands  of  Japan. 

The  Kumamoto  Government  College  was  one  of  the 
largest  in  Japan, — came  next,  indeed,  to  the  Imperial  Uni 
versity  in  Tokyo  in  importance.  It  was  run  on  the  most 
approved  occidental  lines.  A  few  of  the  boys  still  ad 
hered  to  their  Japanese  dress,  but  most  of  them  adopted 
the  military  uniform  now,  as  a  rule,  worn  in  Japanese 
colleges.  There  were  three  classes,  corresponding  with 
three  higher  classes  of  the  Jinjo  Chugakko — and  two  higher 
classes.  He  did  not  now  teach  on  Saturdays.  There  were 
no  stoves — only  Jiibachi.  The  library  was  small,  and  the 
English  books  were  not  good.  There  was  a  building  in 
which  Jiu-jitsu  was  taught;  and  separate  buildings  for 
sleeping,  eating,  and  bathing.  The  bath-room  was  a  sur 
prise.  Thirty  or  forty  students  could  bathe  at  the  same 
time ;  and  four  hundred  could  sit  down  to  meals  in  the  great 
dining-hall.  There  was  a  separate  building,  also,  for  the 
teaching  of  chemistry,  natural  history,  etc.;  and  a  small 
museum. 

Hearn  apparently  foregathered  with  none  of  the  masters 
of  the  college,  except  the  old  teacher  of  Chinese.  The 
others  he  simply  saluted  morning  and  evening,  and  in  the 
intervals  between  classes  sat  in  a  corner  to  himself  smoking 
his  pipe. 

"You  talk  of  being  without  intellectual  companion 
ship!"  he  writes  to  Hendrik.  "OH  YE  EIGHT  HUN 
DRED  MYRIADS  OF  GODS!  What  would  you  do  if 
you  were  me?  Lo!  The  illusion  is  gone!  Japan  in 
Kyushu  is  like  Europe — except  I  have  no  friend.  The 
differences  in  ways  of  thinking,  and  the  difficulties  of  lan- 

201 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

guage,  render  it  impossible  for  an  educated  Japanese  to 
find  pleasure  in  the  society  of  a  European.  My  scholars 
in  this  great  Government  school  are  not  boys,  but  men. 
They  speak  to  me  only  in  class.  The  teachers  never  speak 
to  me  at  all.  I  go  to  the  college  and  return  after  class, — 
always  alone,  no  mental  company  but  books.  But  at  home 
everything  is  sweet." 

In  consequence  of  this  isolation,  or  because  of  the  soften 
ing  influence  of  matrimony,  here  at  Kumamoto  he  seemed 
for  the  first  time  to  awake  to  the  fact  of  having  relations 
in  that  distant  western  land  he  had  left  so  many  years 
before.  "Our  soul,  or  souls,  ever  wanders  back  to  its  own 
kindred,"  he  says  to  his  sister. 

His  father,  Charles  Bush  Hearn,  had  left  three  children 
by  his  second  wife  (daughters),  all  born  in  India.  In 
valided  home,  Charles  Hearn  had  died,  in  the  Red  Sea,  of 
Indian  fever;  the  three  orphan  children  and  his  widow 
continued  their  journey  to  Ireland. 

At  their  mother's  death,  which  occurred  a  few  years 
later,  the  girls  were  placed  under  the  guardianship  of  va 
rious  members  of  the  family;  two  of  them  ultimately  mar 
ried;  one  of  them  a  Mr.  Brown,  the  other  a  Mr.  Buckley 
Atkinson.  The  unmarried  one,  Miss  Lilian  Hearn,  went 
out  to  Michigan  in  America,  to  stop  with  Lafcadio's 
brother,  and  her  own  half-brother,  Daniel  James  Hearn, 
or  Jim,  as  he  was  usually  called. 

Public  interest  was  gradually  awakening  with  regard  to 
Japanese  affairs.  Professor  Basil  Hall  Chamberlain's  and 
Satow  's  books  were  looked  upon  as  standard  works  to  refer 
to  for  information  concerning  the  political  and  social  affairs 
of  the  extraordinary  little  people  who  were  working  their 
way  to  the  van  in  the  Far  East.  But,  above  all,  Lafcadio 
Hearn  Js  articles  contributed  to  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  after 
wards  published  under  the  title  of  "Glimpses  of  Unfa 
miliar  Japan,"  had  claimed  public  attention. 

202 


KUMAMOTO 

Miss  Lillah  Hearn  was  the  first  member  of  the  family 
to  write  to  this  half-brother,  who  was  becoming  so  fa 
mous,  but  received  no  answer.  Then  Mrs.  Brown,  the 
other  sister,  approached  him,  silence  greeted  her  efforts 
as  well.  On  hearing  of  his  marriage  to  a  Japanese  lady, 
Mrs.  Atkinson,  the  youngest  sister,  wrote.  Whether  it 
was  that  she  softened  the  exile's  heart  in  his  expatriation 
by  that  sympathy  and  innate  tact  which  are  two  of  her 
distinguished  qualities,  it  is  impossible  to  say,  but  her  letter 
was  answered. 

This  strange  relative  of  theirs  who  had  gone  to  Japan, 
adopted  Japanese  dress  and  habits,  and  married  a  Japan 
ese  lady,  had  become  somewhat  of  a  legendary  character  to 
his  quiet-going  Irish  kindred.  The  arrival  of  the  first 
letter,  therefore,  was  looked  upon  as  quite  an  event  and 
was  passed  from  house  to  house,  and  hand  to  hand,  becom 
ing  considerably  mutilated  in  its  journeyings  to  and  fro. 
The  first  page  is  entirely  gone,  and  the  second  page  so 
erased  and  torn  that  it  is  only  decipherable  here  and  there. 
We  are  enabled  to  put  an  approximate  date  to  it  by  his 
reference  to  Miss  Bisland's  marriage,  of  which  he  had 
heard  towards  the  end  of  his  stay  at  Matsue. 

"I  have  written  other  things,  but  am  rather  ashamed 
of  them,"  he  adds.  "So  Miss  Bisland  has  married  and 
become  Mrs.  Wetmore.  She  is  as  rich  at  least  as  she 
could  wish  to  be,  but  I  have  not  heard  from  her  for  more 
than  a  year.  I  suppose  friendship  ends  with  marriage. 
If  my  sister  was  not  married,  I  think — I  only  think — I 
would  feel  more  brotherly. 

"Well,  I  will  say  au  revoir.  Many  thanks  for  the 
letter  you  wrote  me.  I  would  like  Please 

give  me  you  can.     Don't  think 

busy  to  write — much  I  teach  for 

a  week — English  and  Elementary 

Latin:  the  time  I  study  and 

203 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

write  for  pleasure,  not  for  profit.  There  isn't  much  profit 
in  literature  unless,  as  a  novelist,  one  happens  to  please 
a  popular  taste, — which  isn't  good  taste.  Some  exceptions 
there  are,  like  Rudyard  Kipling ;  but  your  brother  has  not 
his  inborn  genius  for  knowing,  seizing  and  painting 
human  nature.  Love  to  you  and  yours — from 

"LAFCADIO  HEARN. 

"Tetorihomnatu  34, 

"Kumamoto,  Kyushu, 
"Japan." 

Mrs.  Atkinson  replied  immediately,  thus  beginning  a 
series  of  delightful  letters,  which  alas!  relate,  so  many  of 
them,  to  intimate  family  affairs  that  it  is  impossible  to 
publish  them  in  their  original  form. 

"My  sweet  little  sister,"  he  wrote  in  answer,  "your 
letter  was  more  than  personally  grateful:  it  had  also  an 
unexpected  curious  interest  for  me,  as  a  revelation  of 
things  I  did  not  know.  I  don't  know  anything  of  my 
relations — their  names,  places,  occupations,  or  even  num 
ber  :  therefore  your  letter  interested  me  in  a  peculiar  way, 
apart  from  its  amiable  charm.  Before  I  talk  any  more, 
I  thank  you  for  the  photographs.  They  have  made  me 
prouder  than  I  ought  to  be.  I  did  not  know  that  I  had 
such  nice  kindred  and  such  a  fairy  niece.  My  wife  stole 
your  picture  from  me  almost  as  soon  as  I  had  received  it, 
to  caress  it,  and  pray  to  Buddha  and  all  the  ancient  gods 
to  love  the  original:  she  has  framed  it  in  a  funny  little 
Japanese  frame,  and  suspended  it  in  that  sacred  part  of 
the  house,  called  the  Toko,  a  sort  of  alcove,  in  which  only 
beautiful  things  are  displayed.  Formerly  the  gods  were 
placed  there  (many  hundred  years  ago) ;  but  now  the  gods 
have  a  separate  shrine  in  the  household,  and  the  Toko  is 
only  the  second  Holy  place.  .  .  ." 

The  next  letter  is  dated  June  27th,  '92,  25th  year  of 
Meiji. 

204 


MRS.  ATKINSON  (HEARN'S  HALF-SISTER). 


KUMAMOTO 

"Dear  sister,  I  love  you  a  little  bit  more  on  hearing 
that  you  are  little.  The  smaller  you  are  the  more  I  will 
be  fond  of  you.  As  for  marriage  being  a  damper  upon 
affection  between  kindred,  it  is  true  only  of  Occidental 
marriages.  The  Japanese  wife  is  only  the  shadow  of  her 
husband,  infinitely  unselfish  and  nai've  in  all  things.  .  .  « 

''If  you  want  me  to  see  you  soon,  you  must  pray  to  the 
Occidental  gods  to  make  me  suddenly  rich.  However,  I 
doubt  if  they  have  half  as  much  influence  as  the  gods  of 
Japan, — who  are  helping  me  to  make  a  bank  account  as 
fast  as  honest  work  can  produce  such  a  result.  I  have  no 
babies ;  and  don 't  expect  to  have,  and  may  be  able  to  cross 
the  seas  one  of  these  days  to  linger  in  your  country  a 
while.  But  really  I  don't  know.  I  drift  with  the  cur 
rent  of  events. 

"As  for  my  book  on  Japan, — my  first  book, — there  is 
much  to  do  yet, — it  ought  to  be  out  in  the  Fall.  It  will  be 
called  "Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar  Japan/'  and  will  treat  of 
strange  things. 

"I  would  like  to  see  you  very  much;  for  you  are  too 
tantalizing  in  your  letters,  and  tell  me  nothing  about  your 
inner  self.  I  want  to  find  out  what  the  angel  shut  up  in 
your  heart  is  like.  No  doubt  very  sweet,  but  I  would  like 
to  pull  it  out,  and  stroke  its  wings,  and  make  it  chipper  a 
little.  As  for  the  little  ones,  make  them  love  me;  for  if 
they  see  me  without  previous  discipline,  they  will  be  afraid 
of  my  ugly  face  when  I  come — I  send  you  a  photo  of  one- 
half  of  it,  the  other  is  not  pleasant,  I  assure  you :  like  the 
moon,  I  show  only  one  side  of  myself.  In  Spanish  coun 
tries  they  call  me  Leucadio — much  easier  for  little  folk  to 
pronounce.  By  the  way,  you  never  gave  me  your  address, 
— sign  of  impulsive  haste,  like  my  own. 

"With  best  love, 

"LAFCAMO  HEARN." 


205 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Then  in  January,  1903,  he  writes  again,  "Your  kind 
sweet  letter  reached  me  at  Christmas  time,  where  there  is 
no  Christmas.  Don't  you  know  that  you  are  very  happy 
to  be  able  to  live  in  England?  I  am  afraid  you  do  not. 
Perhaps  you  could  not  know  without  having  lived  much 
elsewhere.  .  .  .  Your  photo  has  come.  The  same  eyes, 
the  same  chin,  brow,  nose :  we  are  strangely  alike — except 
ing  that  you  are  very  comely,  and  I  very  much  the  re 
verse — partly  by  exaggeration  of  the  traits  which  make 
your  face  beautiful,  and  partly  because  I  am  disfigured  by 
the  loss  of  an  eye — punched  out  at  school.  .  .  .  Won't 
you  please  give  my  kindest  thanks  to  your  husband  for  the 
pains  he  has  taken  to  please  me !  I  hope  to  meet  him  some 
day,  and  thank  him  in  person,  if  I  don 't  leave  my  bones  in 
some  quaint  and  curious  Buddhist  cemetery  out  here.  .  .  . " 

The  wonderful  series  of  letters  to  Professor  Hall 
Chamberlain,  recently  published  by  Miss  Bisland,  are  also 
•written  from  Kumamoto  and  Kobe,  and  to  a  great  extent 
run  simultaneously  with  those  to  his  sister.  He  had  a  habit 
of  repeating  himself ;  the  same  expressions,  the  same  quota 
tions,  appear  in  both  series,  and  sometimes  are  again  re 
peated  in  his  published  essays.  When  struck  by  an  idea 
or  incident,  it  seems  as  if  he  must  impart  it  as  something 
noteworthy  to  every  one  with  whom  he  was  holding  com 
munion.  He  gives,  for  instance,  the  same  account  to  his 
sister  of  the  routine  of  his  Japanese  day  as  related  to 
Professor  Hall  Chamberlain  and  Ellwood  Hendrik. 

We  can  imagine  his  rigidly  Protestant  Irish  relations 
amidst  the  conventional  surroundings  of  an  Irish  country 
house,  following  minutely  the  services  of  the  established 
church  as  preached  to  them  by  their  local  clergyman, 
utterly  bewildered  in  reading  the  description  of  the  out 
landish  cult  to  which  he,  their  relation,  subscribed  in 
Japan.  The  awakening  to  the  rising  of  the  sun  with  the 
clapping  of  hands  of  servants  in  the  garden,  the  prayers 

206 


KUMAMOTO 

at  the  Butsudan,  the  putting  out  the  food  for  the  dead,  all 
the  strange,  quaint  customs  that  mark  the  passing  of  the 
day  in  the  ancient  Empire  of  Nippon.  Not  by  thousands 
of  miles  only  was  he  separated  from  his  occidental  rela 
tions,  but  by  immemorial  centuries  of  thought. 

On  May  21st,  1893,  there  is  another  letter  to  his  sister, 
Mrs.  Atkinson,  in  which  he  first  announces  his  expectation 
of  becoming  a  father.  It  is  so  characteristic  of  Laf cadio  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  the  child  would  be  a  boy,  and 
already  to  make  plans  for  his  education  abroad. 

"Tsuboi,  'Nicliiliorabata  35,  K.umamoto, 
"Kyushu,  Japan. 

May  21st,  '93. 

"Mr  DEAR  MINNIE: 

"  (I  think  'sister'  is  too  formal,  I  shall  call  you  by  your 
pet  name  hereafter.)  First  let  me  thank  you  very,  very 
much  for  the  photographs.  I  was  extremely  pleased  with 
that  of  your  husband; — and  thought  at  once,  'Ah!  the 
lucky  girl!'  For  your  husband,  my  dear  Sis,  is  no  ordi 
nary  man.  There  are  faces  that  seen  for  the  first  time 
leave  an  impression  which  gives  the  whole  of  the  man, 
ineffaceably.  And  they  are  rare.  I  think  I  know  your 
husband  already,  admire  him  and  love  him, — not  simply 
for  your  sake,  but  for  his  own.  He  [is]  all  man, — and 
strong, — a  good  oak  for  your  ivy.  I  don't  mean  physical 
strength,  though  he  seems  (from  the  photograph)  to  have 
an  uncommon  amount  of  it,  but  strength  of  character. 
You  can  feel  pretty  easy  about  the  future  of  your  little 
ones  with  such  a  father.  (Don't  read  all  this  to  him, 
though, — or  he  will  think  I  am  trying  to  flatter  either  him 
or  you, — though,  of  course,  you  can  tell  him  something  of 
the  impression  his  photo  gives  me,  in  a  milder  form.) 
And  you  don 't  know  what  the  real  impression  is, — nor  how 
it  is  enhanced  by  the  fact  that  I  have  been  for  three  years 
isolated  from  all  English  or  European  intercourse, — never 

207 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

see  an  English  face,  except  that  of  some  travelling  mis 
sionary,  which  is  apt  to  be  ignoble.  The  Oriental  face  is 
somewhat  inscrutable, — like  the  faces  of  the  Buddhist  gods. 
In  youth  it  has  quite  a  queer  charm, — the  charm  of  mys 
terious  placidity,  of  smiling  calm.  (But  among  the 
modernised,  college-bred  Japanese  this  is  lost.)  What  one 
never — or  hardly  ever — sees  among  these  Orientals  is  a 
face  showing  strong  character.  The  race  is  strangely  im 
personal.  The  women  are  divinely  sweet  in  temper;  the 
men  are  mysteries,  and  not  altogether  pleasant.  I  feel 
myself  in  exile;  and  your  letters  and  photographs  only 
make  me  homesick  for  English  life, — just  one  plunge  into 
it  again. 

" — Will  I  ever  see  you?  Really  I  don't  know.  Some 
day  I  should  like  to  visit  England, — provided  I  could 
assure  myself  of  sufficient  literary  work  there  to  justify  a 
stay  of  at  least  half-a-year,  and  the  expense  of  the  voyage. 
Eventually  that  might  be  possible.  I  would  never  go  as 
a  mere  guest — not  even  a  sister's;  but  I  should  like  to  be 
able  to  chat  with  the  sister  occasionally  on  leisure-evenings. 
I  am  quite  a  savage  on  the  subject  of  independence,  let  me 
tell  you;  and  would  accept  no  kindnesses  except  those  of 
your  company  at  intervals.  But  all  this  is  not  of  to-day. 
I  cannot  take  my  wife  to  Europe,  it  would  be  impossible 
to  accustom  her  to  Western  life, — indeed  it  would  be  cruel 
even  to  try.  But  I  may  have  to  educate  my  child  abroad, 
— which  would  be  an  all-powerful  reason  for  the  voyage. 
However,  I  would  prefer  an  Italian,  French,  or  Spanish 
school-life  to  an  English  one. 

11 — Oh  yes,  about  the  book — 'Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar 
Japan'  is  now  in  press.  It  will  appear  in  two  volumes, 
without  illustrations.  The  publishers  are  Houghton, 
Mifflin  &  Co.,  of  Boston, — the  best  in  America.  Whether 
you  like  the  book  or  no,  I  can't  tell.  I  have  an  idea  you 
do  not  care  much  about  literary  matters ; — that  you  are  too 

208 


KUMAMOTO 

much  wife  and  mother  for  that; — that  your  romances  and 
poetry  are  in  your  own  home.  And  such  romance  and 
poetry  is  the  best  of  all.  However,  if  you  take  some  in 
terest  in  trying  to  look  at  ME  between  the  lines,  you  may 
have  patience  to  read  the  work.  Don't  try  to  read  it,  if 
you  don't  like. 

" — But  here  is  something  you  might  do  for  me,  as  I 
am  not  asking  for  certain  friendly  offices.  When  the  book 
is  criticised,  you  might  kindly  send  me  a  few  of  the  best 
reviews.  Miss  Bisland,  while  in  London,  wrote  me  the 
reviews  of  some  of  my  other  books  had  been  very  kindly; 
but  she  never  dreamed  of  supplementing  this  pleasant  in 
formation  by  cutting  out  a  few  specimens  for  me. — By 
the  way,  she  has  married  well,  you  know, — has  become 
awfully  rich  and  fashionable,  and  would  not  even  conde 
scend  to  look  at  me  if  she  passed  me  in  Broadway — I 
suppose.  But  she  well  deserved  her  good  fortune ; 
for  she  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  gifted  girls  I  ever 
knew,  and  has  succeeded  in  everything — against  immense 
obstacles — with  no  help  except  that  of  her  own  will  and 
genius. 

" — And  now  I  must  give  you  a  lecture.  I  don't  want 
more  than  one  sister, — haven't  room  in  my  heart  for  more. 
All  appear  to  be  as  charming  as  they  are  sweet  looking.  I 
am  interested  to  hear  how  they  succeed,  etc.,  etc.  But 
don't  ask  me  to  write  to  everybody,  and  don't  show  every 
body  my  letters.  I  can't  diffuse  myself  very  far.  You 
said  you  would  be  'my  favourite.'  A  nice  way  you  go 
about  it!  Suppose  I  tell  you  that  I  am  a  very  jealous, 
nasty  brother;  and  that  if  I  can't  have  one  sister  by  her 
self  I  don't  want  any  sister  at  all!  Would  that  be  very, 
very  naughty?  But  it  is  true.  And  now  you  can  be 
shocked  just  as  much  as  you  please. 

" — Yes,  I  have  lost  an  eye,  and  look  horrible.  The 
operation  in  Dublin  did  not  cause  the  disfigurement,  but 

209 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

a  blow,  or  rather  the  indirect  results  of  a  blow,  received 
from  a  play-fellow. 

" — You  ask  me  if  I  should  like  a  photograph  of  father. 
I  certainly  should,  if  you  can  procure  me  one  without 
trouble.  I  hope — much  more  than  to  see  England, — to 
visit  India,  and  try  to  find  some  tradition  of  him.  I  did 
not  know  positively,  until  last  year,  that  father  had  been 
in  the  "West  Indies.  When  I  went  there,  I  had  the  queer 
est,  ghostliest  sensation  of  having  seen  it  all  before.  I 
think  I  should  experience  even  stranger  sensations  in  India ! 
The  climate  would  be  agreeable  for  me.  Remember,  I 
passed  fourteen  years  of  my  life  south  of  winter.  The 
first  snow  I  saw  from  1876  to  1890  was  on  my  way  through 
Canada  to  Japan.  Indeed,  if  ever  I  become  quite  inde 
pendent,  I  want  to  return  to  the  tropics. 

11  Enough  to  tire  your  eyes, — isn't  it? — for  this  time. 

"Ever  affectionately, 

"LAFCADIO  HEARN. 

"In  the  names  of  the  eight  hundred  myriads  of  Gods, — 
do  give  me  your  address.  The  only  way  I  have  been  able 
to  write  you  is  by  finding  the  word  Portadown  in  Whit- 
taker's  Almanac.  You  are  a  careless,  naughty  'Sis.' 

"I  enclose  my  name  and  address  in  Japanese. 
"YAKUMO  KOIZUME, 

"Tsuboi, 

"Nichihorabata  35, 

"Kumamoto,  Kyushu." 


All  the  women  are  making  funny  little  Japanese  baby- 
clothes,  and  all  the  Buddhist  Divinities,  who  watch  over 
little  children,  are  being  prayed  to.  ...  "Letters  of 
congratulation,"  he  said,  "were  coming  from  all  directions, 
for  the  expectation  of  a  child  is  always  a  subject  of  great 
gladness  in  Japan.  .  .  .  Behind  all  this  there  is  a 

210 


KUMAMOTO 

universe  of  new  sensations,  revelations  of  things  in  Bud 
dhist  faith  which  are  very  beautiful  and  touching.  About 
the  world  an  atmosphere  of  delicious,  sacred  naivete, — 
difficult  to  describe  because  resembling  nothing  in  the  West 
ern  world.  .  .  ." 

Hearn's  account  of  his  home  before  the  birth  of  his  son 
throws  most  interesting  lights  on  Japanese  methods  of 
thought  and  daily  life.  He  refers  to  the  pretty  custom  of 
a  woman  borrowing  a  baby  when  she  is  about  to  become  a 
mother.  It  is  thought  an  honour  to  lend  it.  And  it  is  ex 
traordinarily  petted  in  its  new  home.  The  one  his  wife 
borrowed  was  only  six  months  old,  but  expressed  in  a 
supreme  degree  all  the  Japanese  virtues ;  docile  to  the  de 
gree  of  going  to  sleep  when  bidden,  and  of  laughing  when 
it  awakened.  The  eerie  wisdom  of  its  face  seemed  to  sug 
gest  a  memory  of  all  its  former  lives.  The  incident  he 
relates  also  of  a  little  Samurai  boy  whom  he  and  his  wife 
had  adopted  is  interesting  as  showing  the  Spartan  disci 
pline  exercised  over  Japanese  children  from  earliest  youth, 
enabling  them  in  later  life  to  display  that  iron  self-control 
that  has  astonished  the  world ;  interesting,  also,  as  showing 
how  nothing  escaped  Hearn  's  quick  observation  and  assidu 
ous  intellect.  Hearn,  at  first,  wanted  to  fondle  the  child, 
and  make  much  of  him,  but  he  soon  found  that  it  was  not 
in  accordance  with  custom.  He  therefore  ceased  to  take 
notice  of  him ;  and  left  him  under  the  control  of  the  women 
of  the  house.  Their  treatment  of  him  Hearn  thought  pecul 
iar  ;  the  little  fellow  was  never  praised  and  rarely  scolded. 
One  day  he  let  a  little  cup  fall  and  broke  it.  No  notice  was 
taken  of  the  accident  for  fear  of  giving  him  pain.  Sud 
denly,  though  the  face  remained  quite  smilingly  placid  as 
usual,  he  could  not  control  his  tears.  As  soon  as  they  saw 
him  cry,  everybody  laughed  and  said  kind  things  to  him, 
till  he  began  to  laugh,  too.  But  what  followed  was  more 
surprising.  Apparently  he  had  been  distantly  treated. 

211 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

One  day  he  did  not  return  from  school  until  three  hours 
after  the  usual  time;  suddenly  the  women  began  to  cry — 
they  were,  indeed,  more  deeply  affected  than  their  treat 
ment  of  the  boy  would  have  justified.  The  servants  ran 
hither  and  thither  in  their  anxiety  to  find  him.  It  turned 
out  that  he  had  only  been  taken  to  a  teacher's  house  for 
something  relating  to  school  matters.  As  soon  as  his  voice 
was  heard  at  the  door,  every  one  was  quiet,  cold,  and  dis 
tantly  polite  again. 

On  September  17th  he  writes  again  to  his  sister,  thank 
ing  her  for  a  copy  she  had  sent  him  of  the  Saturday  Re 
view.  ' '  You  could  send  me  nothing  more  pleasing,  or  more 
useful  in  a  literary  way.  It  is  all  the  more  welcome  as  I 
am  really  living  in  a  hideous  isolation,  far  away  from 
books,  and  book-shops,  and  Europeans.  When  I  can  get — 
which  I  hope  is  the  next  year — into  a  more  pleasant  local 
ity,  I  shall  try  to  pick  out  some  pretty  Oriental  tales  to 
send  to  the  little  ones."  He  was  not  able,  he  goes  on,  to 
go  far  from  Kumamoto,  not  liking  to  leave  his  little  wife 
too  long  alone;  so  his  vacation  was  rather  monotonous. 
He  travelled  only  as  far  as  Nagasaki.  It  was  quaint  and 
pretty,  but  hotter  than  any  West  Indian  port  in  the  hot 
season.  He  was  economising,  he  said,  and  had  saved  nearly 
three  thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  Once  he  had  pro 
vided  for  his  wife,  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  make  a  few  long 
voyages  to  places  east  of  Japan.  "You  are  much  to  be 
envied, "  he  goes  on  to  his  sister,  "for  your  chances  of 
travel.  What  a  pity  you  are  not  able  to  devote  yourself 
to  writing  and  painting  in  a  place  like  Algiers — full  of 
romance  and  picturesqueness.  If  you  go  there,  don't  fail 
to  see  the  old  Arab  part  of  the  city — the  Kasbah,  I  think 
they  call  it.  How  about  the  Continent?  Have  you  tried 
Southern  Italy?  And  don't  you  think  that  one  gets  all 
the  benefit  of  travel  only  by  keeping  away  from  fashion- 
resorts  and  places  consecrated  by  conventionalism?  Noth- 

212 


KUMAMOTO 

ing  to  me  is  more  frightful  than  a  fashionable  seaside  re 
sort — such  as  those  of  the  Atlantic  Coast.  My  happiest 
sojourns  of  this  sort  have  been  in  little  fishing  villages,  and 
little  queer  old  unknown  towns,  where  there  are  no  big 
vulgar  hotels,  and  where  one  can  dress  and  do  exactly  as 
one  pleases. 

"What  will  you  do  with  your  little  man  when  he  grows 
up?  Army,  or  Civil  Service?  Whatever  you  do,  never 
let  him  go  to  America,  and  lose  all  his  traditions.  Aus 
tralia  would  be  far  better.  I  expect  he  will  be  gloriously 
well  able  to  take  care  of  himself  anywhere, — judging  by 
his  father,  but  I  have  come  to  the  belief  that  one  cannot 
too  soon  begin  the  cultivation  of  a  single  aim  and  single 
talent  in  life.  This  is  the  age  of  specialism.  No  man  can 
any  longer  be  successful  in  many  things.  Even  the 
*  general  practitioner '  in  medicine  has  almost  become  ob 
solete. 

"Nothing  seems  to  me  more  important  now  for  a  little 
boy  than  the  training  of  his  linguistic  faculties, — giving 
him  every  encouragement  in  learning  languages  by  ear — 
(the  only  natural  way)  ;  and  your  travelling  sometimes 
with  him  will  help  you  to  notice  how  his  faculties  are  in 
that  direction.  But  perhaps  it  will  be  possible  for  him  to 
pass  all  his  life  in  England.  (For  me,  England,  Ireland 
and  Scotland  mean  the  same  thing. )  That  would  be  pleas 
ant  indeed.  .  .  .  When  I  think  of  your  little  man  with 
the  black  eyes,  I  hope  that  his  life  will  always  be  in  the 
circle  of  English  traditions,  wherever  the  English  Flag 
flies,  there  remain. 

"I  suppose  you  know  that  in  this  Orient  the  construc 
tion  of  the  family  is  totally  different  to  what  it  is  in 
Europe.  .  .  .  We  are  too  conceitedly  apt  to  think  that 
what  is  good  for  Englishmen  is  good  for  all  nations, — our 
ethics,  our  religion,  our  costumes,  etc.  The  plain  facts  of 
the  case  are  that  all  Eastern  races  lose,  instead  of  gaining, 

213 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

by  contact  with  us.  They  imitate  our  vices  instead  of 
our  virtues,  and  learn  all  our  weaknesses  without  getting 
any  of  our  strength.  Already  statistics  show  an  enormous 
increase  of  crime  in  Japan  as  the  result  of  'Christian 
civilisation';  and  the  open  ports  show  a  demoralisation 
utterly  unknown  in  the  interior  of  the  country,  and  un 
imaginable  in  the  old  feudal  days  before  1840  or 
1850.  .  .  ." 

In  the  next  letter  he  gives  his  sister  a  minute  account 
of  his  Japanese  manner  of  life  on  the  floor  without  chairs 
or  tables.  It  has  been  described  so  often  by  visitors  to 
Japan,  and  by  Hearn  himself,  that  it  is  unnecessary  to 
repeat  it  here.  He  ends  his  letter: — 

"I  am  now  so  used  to  the  Japanese  way  of  living,  that 
when  I  have  to  remain  all  day  in  Western  clothes,  I  feel 
very  unhappy ;  and  I  think  I  should  not  find  European  life 
pleasant  in  summer  time.  Some  day,  I  will  send  you  a 
photograph  of  my  house. 

"I  wish  you  much  happiness  and  good  health  and 
pleasant  days  of  travel,  and  thank  you  much  for  the  paper. 

"This  letter  is  rather  rambling,  but  perhaps  you  will 
find  something  interesting  in  it. 

' '  Ever  affectionately, 

1 1  LAFCADIO.  " 

In  September  comes  another  letter  to  Mrs.  Atkinson: 
"You  actually  talk  about  writing  too  often, — which  is 
strange !  There  is  only  this  difficulty  about  writing, — that 
we  both  know  so  little  of  each  other  that  topics  interesting 
to  both  can  be  only  guessed  at.  That  should  be  only  a 
temporary  drawback. 

"The  more  I  see  your  face  in  photos,  the  more  I  feel 
drawn  toward  you.  Lilian  and  the  other  sister  represent 
different  moods  and  tenses  pictorially.  You  seem  most 
near  to  me, — as  I  felt  on  first  reading  your  letter.  You 

214 


KUMAMOTO 

have  strength,  too,  where  I  have  not.  You  are  certainly 
very  sensitive,  but  also  self -repressed.  I  think  you  are  not 
inclined  to  make  mistakes.  I  think  you  can  be  quickly 
offended,  and  quick  to  forgive — if  you  understand  the 
offence  to  be  only  a  mistake.  You  would  not  forgive  at  all 
should  you  discern  behind  the  fault  a  something  much 
worse  than  mistake, — and  in  this  you  would  be  right. 
You  are  inclined  to  reserve,  and  not  to  bursts  of  joy ; — you 
have  escaped  my  extremes  of  depression  and  extremes  of 
exultation.  You  see  very  quickly  beyond  the  present  rela 
tions  of  a  fact — I  think  all  this.  But  of  course  you  have 
been  shaped  in  certain  things  by  social  influences  I  have 
never  had, — so  that  you  must  have  perfect  poise  where  I 
would  flounder  and  stumble. 

"But  imagining  won't  do  always.  I  should  like  to  know 
more  of  you  than  a  photograph  or  a  rare  letter  can  tell.  I 
don't  know,  remember,  anything  at  all  about  you.  I  do 
not  know  where  you  were  born,  where  you  were  educated, 
— anything  of  your  life;  or  what  is  much  more,  infinitely 
more  important,  I  don't  know  your  emotions  and  thoughts 
and  feelings  and  experiences  in  the  past.  What  you  are 
now,  I  can  guess.  But  what  were  you, — long  ago  ?  What 
memories  most  haunt  you  of  places  and  people  you  liked? 
If  you  could  tell  me  some  of  these,  how  pleasantly  we  might 
compare  notes.  Mere  facts  tell  little:  the  interest  of  per 
sonality  lies  most  in  the  infinitely  special  way  that  facts 
affect  the  person.  I  am  very  curious  about  you, — but, 
don 't  take  this  too  seriously ;  because  though  my  wishes  are 
strong,  my  disinclination  to  cause  you  pain  is  stronger ;  and 
you  have  told  me  that  writing  is  sometimes  fatiguing  to 
you.  It  were  so  much  better  could  we  pass  a  day  or  two 
together. 

"You  must  not  underrate  yourself  as  you  did  in  your 
last.  Your  few  lines  about  the  scenery, — short  as  they 
were, — convinced  me  that  you  could  do  something  literary 

215 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

of  a  very  nice  sort  had  yon  the  time  and  chance  to  give 
yourself  to  any  such  work.  But  I  do  not  wish  that  you 
would — except  to  read  the  result ;  for  literary  labour  is  ex 
tremely  severe  work,  even  after  the  secret  of  method  is 
reached.  I  am  only  beginning  to  learn;  and  to  produce 
five  pages  means  to  write  at  least  twenty-five.  Enthusi 
asms  and  inspirations  have  least  to  do  with  the  matter. 
The  real  work  is  condensing,  compressing,  choosing,  chang 
ing,  shifting  words  and  phrases, — studying  values  of  col 
our  and  sound  and  form  in  words;  and  when  all  is  done, 
the  result  satisfies  only  for  a  time.  What  I  wrote  six  years 
ago,  I  cannot  bear  the  sight  of  to-day.  If  I  had  been  a 
genius,  I  wonder  whether  I  would  feel  the  same. 

"Romances  are  not  in  novels,  but  in  lives.  Can  you  not 
tell  me  some  of  yours  when  you  are  feeling  very,  very 
well,  and  don 't  know  what  to  do  ?  What  surprised  me  was 
your  observation  about  'sentimental'  in  your  last  letter, — 
and  that  upon  such  a  worthy  topic !  What  can  you  think 
of  me  1  And  here  in  this  Orient,  where  the  spirit  of  more 
ancient  faiths  enters  into  one's  blood  with  the  sense  of 
the  doctrine  of  filial  piety,  and  the  meaning  of  ancestor 
worship, — how  very,  very  strange  and  cruel  it  seems  to 
me  that  my  little  sister  should  be  afraid  of  being  thought 
sentimental  about  the  photograph  of  her  father!  What 
self-repression  does  all  this  mean,  and  what  iron  influences 
in  Western  life — English  life  that  I  have  almost  forgot 
ten!  However,  character  loses  nothing:  under  the  ex 
terior  ice,  the  Western  could  only  gain  warmth  and  depth 
if  it  be  of  the  right  sort.  I  hope,  nevertheless,  my  little 
sister  will  be  just  as  'sentimental'  as  she  possibly  can 
when  she  writes  to  Japan, — and  feel  sure  of  more  than 
sympathy  and  gratitude.  Unless  she  means  by  'senti 
mental'  only  something  in  regard  to  style  of  writing — in 
which  case  I  assure  her  that  she  cannot  err.  If  she  is 
afraid  of  being  thought  really  sentimental,  I  should  be 

216 


KUMAMOTO 

much  more  afraid  of  meeting  her, — for  I  should  wish  to 
say  sweet  things  and  to  hear  them,  too,  should  I  deserve. 

"At  all  events  remember  that  you  have  given  me  some 
thing  very  precious, — not  only  in  itself, — but  precious  be 
cause  precious  to  you.  And  it  shall  never  be  lost, — in 
spite  of  earthquakes  and  possible  fires." 

(The  something  he  alludes  to  as  "very  precious"  was 
a  photograph  of  their  father,  Charles  Hearn,  that  Mrs. 
Atkinson  had  sent  him.) 

" — I  wish  I  could  talk  to  you  more  about  Father  and 
India.  I  wish  to  ask  a  hundred  thousand  questions.  But 
on  paper  it  is  difficult  to  express  all  one  wishes  to  say. 
And  letters  of  mere  questions  carry  no  joy  with  them,  and 
no  sympathy.  So  I  shall  not  ask  now  any  more.  And  you 
must  not  tire  your  dear  little  aching  head  to  write  when 
you  do  not  feel  well.  I  shall  write  again  soon.  For  a 
little  while  good-bye,  with  love  and  all  sweet  hope  to  you 
ever, 

"LAFCADIO  HEARN. 

"Kumamoto, 

"Kyushu,  Japan. 
"Jan.  30,  '94." 

On  November  17th,  1893,  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
Hearn 's  eldest  son,  Leopold  Kazuo  Koizumi,  was  born. 

He  declared  that  the  strangest  and  strongest  sensation 
of  his  life  was  hearing  for  the  first  time  the  cry  of  his 
own  child.  There  was  a  strange  feeling  of  being  double; 
something  more,  also,  impossible  to  analyse — the  echo  in 
a  man's  heart  of  all  the  sensations  felt  by  all  the  fathers 
and  mothers  of  his  race  at  a  similar  instant  in  the  past. 

A  few  weeks  later  he  writes  to  his  sister,  giving  her 
news  about  his  son.  "The  physician  says  that  from  the 
character  of  his  bones  he  ought  to  become  very  tall.  He 
is  very  dark.  He  has  my  nose  and  promises  to  have  the 

217 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Hearn  eyebrows;  but  he  has  the  Oriental  eye.  Whether 
he  will  be  handsome  or  ugly,  I  can't  tell:  his  little  face 
changes  every  day ; — he  has  already  looked  like  five  differ 
ent  people.  When  first  born,  I  thought  him  the  prettiest 
creature  I  ever  saw.  But  that  did  not  last.  I  am  so  in 
experienced  in  the  matter  of  children  that  I  cannot  trust 
myself  to  make  any  predictions.  Of  course  I  find  the 
whole  world  changed  about  me.  .  .  4 

"My  wife,"  he  goes  on,  "is  quite  well.  Happily  the  old 
military  caste  to  which  she  belongs  is  a  strong  one,  but 
how  sacred  and  terrible  a  thing  is  maternity.  When  it 
was  all  over  I  felt  very  humble  and  grateful  to  the  Un 
knowable  Power  which  had  treated  us  so  kindly.  The  pos 
sibility  of  men  being  cruel  to  the  women  who  bear  their 
children  seemed  at  the  moment  to  darken  existence. 

"I  have  received  your  last  beautiful  photograph — or  I 
should  say  two: — the  vignette  is,  of  course,  the  most  lov 
able,  but  both  are  very,  very  nice.  I  gave  the  full-figure 
one  to  Setsu.  She  would  like  to  have  her  boy  grow  up 
looking  either  like  you  or  like  Posey — but  most  like  you. 
(Thanks  also  for  the  pretty  photo  of  yourself  and  Posey: 
Posey  is  decidedly  handsome.)  But  I  fear  my  son  can 
never  be  like  either  of  you.  He  is  altogether  Oriental  so 
far, — looks  at  me  with  the  still  calm  Buddhist  eyes  of  the 
Far  East,  and  the  soul  of  another  race.  Even  his  nose 
will  never  declare  his  Western  blood;  for  the  finest  class 
of  the  Japanese  offer  many  strongly  aquiline  faces.  Setsu 
is  a  Samurai,  and  though  her  own  features  are  the  reverse 
of  aquiline,  there  are  aquiline  faces  among  the  kindred. 

' '  I  am  awfully  anxious  that  the  boy  should  get  to  be  like 
you.  I  have  had  your  most  beautiful  photograph  copied 
by  a  clever  photographer  here  and  have  sent  the  copies  to 
friends,  saying,  'this  is  my  sister;  and  this  is  the  boy.  I 
want  him  to  look  like  her. '  You  see  I  am  proud  of  you, — 
not  only  as  to  the  ghostly,  but  also  as  to  the  material  part 

218          f 


KUMAMOTO 

of  you.  Physiologically  I  am  all  Latin  and  Pagan, — even 
though  my  little  boy 's  eyes  are  bright  blue. 

".  .  .  It  is  really  nonsense,  sending  such  a  thing  as 
his  photo  at  fifty-five  days  old,  because  the  child  changes 
so  much  every  week.  But  you  are  my  little  sister.  I  have 
called  him  Leopold  Kazuo  Hearn — for  European  use  and 
custom.  Kazuo,  in  Japanese,  signifies  'First  of  the  Ex 
cellent.  '  I  have  not  registered  him  under  that  name,  how 
ever  ;  because  by  the  law,  if  I  registered  my  wife  or  son  in 
the  Consulate,  both  become  English  citizens,  and  lose  the 
right  to  hold  any  property,  or  do  any  business  in  Japan, 
or  even  to  live  in  the  interior  without  a  passport.  I  have, 
therefore,  stopped  at  the  Japanese  marriage  ceremony,  and 
a  publication  of  the  fact  abroad.  In  the  present  order  I 
dare  not  deprive  my  folks  of  their  nationality. " 

Then  some  time  later  he  writes : — 

"You  ask  for  all  kinds  of  news  about  Kajiwo.  Well, 
he  is  now  able  to  stand  well,  and  is  tremendously  strong 
to  all  appearance.  He  tries  to  speak.  'Aba'  is  the  first 
word  spoken  by  Japanese  babes:  it  means  'good-bye/ 
Here  is  a  curious  example  of  the  contrast  between  West 
and  East, — the  child  comes  into  the  world  saying  fare 
well.  But  this  would  be  in  accordance  with  Buddhist 
philosophy, — saying  farewell  to  the  previous  life. 

"You  are  right  about  supposing  that  the  birth  of  a  son 
in  Japan  is  an  occasion  of  special  rejoicing.  All  the  baby 
clothes  are  ready  long  before  birth — (except  the  orna 
mental  ones) — as  the  Kimono  or  little  robe  is  the  same 
shape  for  either  sex  (of  children).  But,  when  the  child  is 
born,  if  it  be  a  girl,  very  beautiful  clothes  of  bright  col 
ours,  covered  with  wonderful  pictures,  are  made  for  it. 
If  it  be  a  boy  the  colours  are  darker,  and  the  designs  dif 
ferent.  My  little  fellow's  silken  Kimono  is  covered  with 
pictures  of  tortoises,  storks,  pine,  and  other  objects  typical 
of  long  life,  prosperity,  steadfastness,  etc.  This  subject  is 

219 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

enormously  elaborate  and  complicated, — so  that  I  cannot 
tell  you  all  about  it  in  a  letter. 

"  After  the  child  is  born,  all  friends  and  relatives  bring 
presents, — and  everybody  comes  to  see  and  congratulate 
the  mother.  You  would  think  this  were  a  trial.  I  was 
afraid  it  would  tire  Setsu.  But  she  was  walking  about 
again  on  the  seventh  day  after  birth.  The  strength  of  the 
boy  is  hers, — not  mine. 

"I  was  also  worried  about  the  physician.  I  wanted  the 
chief  surgeon  of  the  garrison, — because  I  was  afraid.  He 
was  a  friend,  and  laughed  at  me.  He  said :  '  If  anything 
terrible  should  happen,  call  me,  but  otherwise  don't  worry 
about  a  doctor.  The  Japanese  have  managed  these  things 
in  their  own  way  for  thousands  of  years  without  doctors : 
a  woman  or  two  will  do.'  So  two  women  came,  and  all 
was  well.  I  hated  the  old  women  first,  but  after  their  suc 
cess,  I  became  very  fond  of  them,  and  hugged  them  in 
English  style,  which  they  could  not  understand." 

The  kind  dull  veil  that  nature  keeps  stretched  between 
mankind  and  the  Unknown  was  drawn  again.  The  world 
became  to  Hearn  nearly  the  same  as  it  had  been  before 
the  birth  of  his  child,  and  he  could  plan,  he  said,  for  the 
boy's  future.  He  was  afraid  he  might  be  near-sighted, 
and  wondered  if  he  would  be  intellectual.  "He  was  so 
proud  of  him,"  his  wife  says,  "that  whenever  a  guest,  a 
student,  or  a  fellow-professor  called,  he  would  begin  talk 
ing  about  him  and  his  perfections  without  allowing  his 
friend  to  get  a  word  in.  He  perfectly  frightened  me  with 
a  hundred  toys  he  brought  home  when  he  returned." 

After  his  son's  birth,  Hearn  naturally  became  still  more 
anxious  to  have  Setsu  registered  legally  as  his  wife,  but 
he  was  always  met  by  official  excuses  and  delays.  He  was 
told  that  if  he  wished  the  boy  to  remain  a  Japanese  citizen 
he  must  register  him  in  the  mother's  name  only.  If  he 
registered  him  in  his  own  name  his  son  became  a  foreign^ 

220 


KAZUO  (HEARN'S  SON)  AND  His  NURSE. 


KUMAMOTO 

er.  On  the  other  hand,  Hearn  knew  that  if  he  nation 
alised  himself  his  salary  would  be  reduced  to  a  Japanese 
level. 

"I  don't  quite  see  the  morality  of  the  reduction,"  he 
says,  "for  services  should  be  paid  according  to  the  market 
value  at  least; — but  there  is  no  doubt  it  would  be  made. 
As  for  America,  and  my  relatives  in  England,  I  am  mar 
ried:  that  has  been  duly  announced.  Perhaps  I  had  bet 
ter  wait  a  few  years  and  then  become  a  citizen.  Being  a 
Japanese  citizen  would,  of  course,  make  no  difference 
whatever  as  to  my  relations  in  any  civilised  countries 
abroad.  It  would  only  make  some  difference  in  an  un 
civilised  country, — such  as  revolutionary  South  America, 
where  English  or  French,  or  American  protection  is  a 
good  thing  to  have.  But  the  long  and  the  short  of  the 
matter  is  that  I  am  anxious  about  Setsu's  and  the  boy's 
interests:  my  own  being  concerned  only  at  that  point 
where  their  injury  would  be  Setsu's  injury." 

The  only  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  he  concluded,  was  to 
abandon  his  English  nationality  and  adopt  his  wife's 
family  name,  Koizumi.  As  a  prefix  for  his  own  personal 
use  he  selected  the  appellation  of  the  Province  of  Izumo 
"Yakumo"  ("Eight  clouds,"  or  the  "Place  of  the  Issu 
ing  of  Clouds,"  the  first  word  of  the  ancient,  Japanese 
song  "Ya-he-gaki"). 

On  one  of  his  letters  he  shows  his  sister  how  his  name 
is  written  in  Japanese. 

Mrs.  Atkinson's  youngest  child,  Dorothy,  was  born  in 
March,  1894.  There  is  an  interval  of  exactly  four  months 
between  her  and  her  cousin  Kazuo.  It  is  in  reference  to 
this  event  that  the  following  letter  was  written: — 

"  How  sweet  of  you  to  get  Mrs.  or  Miss  Weatherall  to 
write  me  the  dear  news !  You  will  be  well  by  the  time  this 
reaches  you,  so  that  I  may  venture  to  write  more  than  con 
gratulations. 

221 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

' '  I  was  quite  anxious  about  you, — feeling  as  if  you  were 
the  only  real  fellow-soul  in  my  world  but  one : — and  birth 
is  a  thing  so  much  more  terrible  than  all  else  in  the  uni 
verse — more  so  than  death  itself — that  the  black  border 
round  the  envelope  made  my  heart  cold  for  a  moment.  I 
had  forgotten  the  why.  Now  I  hope  you  will  not  have 
any  more  sons  or  daughters ;  you  have-  three, — and  I  trust 
you  will  have  no  more  pain  or  trouble.  As  for  me,  I  am 
very  resolved  not  to  become  a  father  again. 

"You  will  laugh  at  me,  and  perhaps  think  it  very 
strange  that  when  only  thirty-five  I  began  to  feel  a  kind 
of  envy  of  friends  with  children.  I  knew  their  troubles, 
anxieties,  struggles;  but  I  saw  their  sons  grow  up,  beau 
tiful  and  gifted  men,  and  I  used  to  whisper  to  myself, — 
'But  I  never  shall  have  a  child/  Then  it  used  to  seem  to 
me  that  no  man  died  so  utterly  as  the  man  without  chil 
dren:  for  him  I  fancied  (like  some  folk  still  really  think 
in  other  lands)  that  death  would  be  utter  eternal  black 
ness.  When  I  did,  however,  hear  the  first  cry  of  my  boy 
— my  boy,  dreamed  about  in  forgotten  years — I  had  for 
that  instant  the  ghostly  sensation  of  being  double.  Just 
then,  and  only  then,  I  did  not  think, — but  felt,  *I  am 
TWO.'  It  was  weird  but  gave  me  thoughts  that  changed 
all  pre-existing  thoughts.  My  boy's  gaze  still  seems  to 
me  a  queerly  beautiful  thing:  I  still  feel  I  am  looking  at 
myself  when  he  looks  at  me.  Only  the  thought  has  be 
come  infinitely  more  complicated.  For  I  think  about  all 
the  dead  who  live  in  the  little  heart  of  him — races  and 
memories  diverse  as  East  and  West.  But  who  made  his 
eyes  blue  and  his  hair  brown?  And  will  he  be  like  you? 
And  will  he  ever  see  the  little  cousin  who  has  just  entered 
the  world?  The  other  day,  for  one  moment,  he  looked 
just  like  your  boy  in  the  picture. ' ' 

Mrs.  Atkinson  about  this  time  went  through  private 
trials  upon  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  touch  here.  The 

222 


KUMAMOTO 

following  letter  of  consolation   and   encouragement  was 
written  to  her  by  her  half-brother: — 

"Well,  you  too  have  had  your  revelations, — which  means 
deep  pains.  One  must  pay  a  terrible  price  to  see  and  to 
know.  Still,  the  purchase  is  worth  making.  You  know 
the  Emerson  lines: — 

"Though  thou  love  her  as  thyself, 
As  a  self  of  purer  clay ; 
Though  her  parting  dims  the  day, 
Stealing  grace  from  all  alive, 
Heartily  know 
When  half-Gods  go, 

The  Gods  arrive!     .     .     . 

" Reverse  the  condition:  the  moral  is  the  same, — and  it 
is  eternal.  By  light  alone  one  cannot  see;  there  must  be 
shadows  in  multitude  to  help.  What  we  love  is  good,  and 
exists,  but  often  exists  only  in  us, — then  we  become  an 
gry  at  others,  not  knowing  the  illusion  was  the  work  of 
the  Gods.  The  Gods  are  always  right.  They  make  us 
sometimes  imagine  that  something  we  love  ever  so  much 
is  in  others,  while  it  is  only  in  our  own  hearts.  The  rea 
son  they  do  this  to  some,  like  you  and  me,  is  to  teach  us 
what  terrible  long,  long  mistakes  we  might  have  made 
without  their  help.  Sometimes  they  really  cause  a  great 
deal  of  more  serious  trouble,  and  we  can't  tell  why.  We 
must  wait  and  believe  and  be  quite  sure  the  Gods  are  good. 

"What  is  not  always  good  is  the  tender  teaching  we  get 
at  home.  We  are  told  of  things  so  beautiful  that  we 
believe  everybody  must  believe  them, — truth,  and  love,  and 
duty,  and  honour  of  soul,  etc.  We  are  even  taught  the 
enormous  lie  that  the  world  is  entirely  regulated  by  these 
beliefs.  I  wonder  if  it  would  not  be  much  better  to  teach 
children  the  adult  truth: — 'The  world  is  thus  and  so: — 
those  beliefs  are  ideal  only  which  do  not  influence  the  in 
tellectual  life,  nor  the  industrial  life,  nor  the  social  life. 

223 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

The  world  is  a  carnival-ball;  and  you  must  wear  a  mask 
thereat, — and  never,  never  doff  it; — except  to  the  woman 
or  the  man  you  must  love  always.  Learn  to  wear  your 
mask  with  grace — only  keep  your  heart  fresh  in  spite  of 
all  bitter  knowledge.'  Wouldn't  this  be  the  best  advice? 
As  a  mere  commonplace  fact, — the  whole  battle  of  life  is 
fought  in  disguise  by  those  who  win.  No  man  knows  the 
heart  of  another  man.  No  woman  knows  the  heart  of  an 
other  woman.  Only  the  woman  can  learn  the  man,  and 
the  man  the  woman ; — and  this  only  after  years !  What  a 
great  problem  it  is;  and  how  utterly  it  is  neglected  in 
teaching  the  little  human  flowers  that  we  set  out  in  the 
world's  cold  without  a  thought! 

"You  are  more  and  more  like  me  in  every  letter;  but 
you  are  better  far.  I  have  not  learned  reserve  with 
friends  yet:  I  supply  the  lack  by  a  retreating  disposition, 
— a  disinclination  to  make  acquaintances.  I  love  very 
quickly  and  strongly;  but  just  as  quickly  dislike  what  I 
loved — if  deceived,  and  the  dislike  does  not  die.  My  gen 
eral  experience  has  been  that  the  loveable  souls  are  but 
rarely  lodged  in  the  forms  which  most  attract  us:  there 
are  such  exceptions  on  the  woman's  side  as  my  dear  little 
Sis, — and  there  are  exceptions  on  the  male  side  of  a  par 
ticular  order,  and  rare.  But  the  rule  remains.  I  wonder 
if  all  these  jokes  are  not  played  on  us  by'  the  Gods,  who 
think, — '  No ! — you  want  the  infinite !  That  can  be  reached 
later  only, — after  innumerable  births.  First  learn,  for  a 
million  years  or  so,  just  to  love  only  souls.  You  must! 
for  you  will  be  punished  if  you  try  to  obtain  all  perfec 
tions  in  one. '  I  think  the  Gods  talk  to  us  about  that  way ; 
and  when  we  leave  the  Spring  season  of  life  behind,  we 
find  the  Gods  were  right  after  all. 

" — Still,  the  great  puzzle  is  in  all  these  things  there  are 
no  general  rules  solid  enough  to  trust  in.  I  fancy  the 
best  teaching  for  a  heart  would  be, — *  Always  caution, — 

224 


KUMAMOTO 

but — believe  the  tendency  of  the  world  is  to  good.'  And 
largeness  seems  to  be  necessary, — never  to  suffer  oneself 
to  see  only  one  charm;  but  to  train  oneself  to  study  com 
binations  and  understand  them.  Any  modern  human  na 
ture  is  too  complex  to  be  otherwise  judged. 

"Music, — yes!  If  I  were  near  you  I  would  be  always 
teasing  you  to  play: — and  would  bring  you  all  kinds  of 
queer  exotic  melodies  to  make  variations  on:  strange 
melodies  from  Spanish  America  and  the  Creole  Is 
lands,  and  Japan,  and  China,  and  all  sorts  of  strange 
places.  We  should  try  to  do  very  curious  things 
in  the  way  of  ballads  and  songs,  and  you  would  teach  me 
all  sorts  of  musical  things  I  don't  know.  By  the  way, 
you  will  be  shocked  to  learn,  perhaps,  that  I  have  never 
been  able  to  appreciate  the  superiority  of  the  new  Ger 
man  music :  The  Italian  still  seems  to  me  the  divine :  but 
that  may  be  because  I  have  never  had  time  to  train  myself 
to  appreciate. 

" — You  do  not  know  how  much  I  sympathise  with  all 
your  anxieties  and  troubles,  and  how  much  I  wish  for 
your  strength  and  happiness.  Would  I  not  like  to  be 
travelling  with  you  to  countries  where  you  wrould  find  all 
the  rest  and  light  and  warmth  you  could  enjoy!  Per 
haps,  some  day  that  may  be.  Pray  to  the  Gods  for  my 
good  fortune;  and  we  shall  share  the  pleasure  together  if 
They  listen.  If  They  do  not,  we  must  wait  as  the  Bud 
dhists  say  until  the  future  birth.  Then  I  want  to  be  a 
very  rich  man,  or  woman,  and  you  a  very  dear  little  sister 
or  brother; — and  I  want  to  have  a  steam  yacht  of  30,000 
horse-power. 

" — Your  sweetest  little  daughter,  may  you  live  to  see 
her  happiness  in  all  things !  I  am  glad  I  have  no  daugh 
ter.  A  boy  can  fight — must  fight  his  way ;  but  a  daughter 
is  the  luxury  of  a  rich  man.  Had  I  a  daughter,  she  would 
be  too  dear;  and  I  should  feel  inclined  to  say  if  dying: — 

225 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

'My  child,  I  am  unable  to  guard  you  longer,  and  the  world 
is  difficult:  you  would  do  better  to  come  to  Shadowland 
with  me.'  But  your  Marjory  will  be  well  guarded  and 
petted,  and  have  the  world  made  sweet  for  her;  and  you 
will  have  no  more  grief.  You  have  had  all  your  disap 
pointments  and  troubles  in  girlhood  —  childhood;  —  the  fu 
ture  must  be  kind  to  you.  As  for  me,  I  really  think  the 
Gods  owe  me  some  favours  ;  they  have  ignored  me  so  long 
that  I  am  now  all  expectation.  '  ' 
Then  again:  — 


VERY   SWEET   LITTLE   SlSTER, 

"Your  dear  letter  came  yesterday,  and  filled  us  all 
with  gladness.  You  see  I  say  US;  —  for  my  folks  prayed 
very  hard  for  you  to  the  ancient  Gods  and  to  the  Bud- 
dhas,  —  that  I  might  not  lose  that  little  sister  of  mine.  — 
And  now  to  answer  questions. 

"Indeed,  Setsu  got  the  photos,  and  wondered  at  them, 
for  she  had  never  seen  a  carriage  before  of  that  kind, 
or  a  room  like  your  room;  and  very  childishly  asked  me 
to  make  her  a  room  like  yours.  To  which  I  said:  —  'The 
cost  of  such  a  room  would  buy  for  you  a  whole  street  in 
your  native  city  of  Matsue;  and  besides,  you  would  be 
very  unhappy  and  uncomfortable  in  such  a  room/  And 
when  I  explained,  she  wondered  still  more.  (A  very  large 
Japanese  house  could  be  bought  with  the  grounds  for 
about  £30  —  I  mean  a  big,  big  merchant's  house  —  in 
Izumo.)  Another  wonder  was  the  donkey  in  the  other 
photo,  for  none  had  ever  seen  such  an  animal. 

"  —  As  for  your  ever  coming  to  Japan,  my  dear,  if  you 
do,  you  shall  have  a  chair.  But  I  fear  —  indeed  I  am 
almost  certain  —  that  the  day  is  not  very  far  away  when 
I  must  leave  Setsu  and  Kajiwo  to  the  care  of  the  ancient 
Gods,  and  go  away  and  work  bravely  for  them  elsewhere, 
till  Kajiwo  is  old  enough  to  go  abroad.  The  days  of  for- 

226 


KUMAMOTO 

eign  influence  and  of  foreign  teaching  in  Japan  are  rap 
idly  drawing  to  a  close.  Japan  is  learning  to  do  well 
without  us;  and  we  have  not  been  kind  enough  to  her  to 
win  her  love.  We  have  persecuted  her  with  hordes  of 
fanatical  missionaries,  robbed  her  by  unjust  treaties, 
forced  her  to  pay  monstrous  indemnities  for  trifling 
wrongs ; — we  have  forced  her  to  become  strong,  and  she 
is  going  to  do  without  us  presently,  the  future  is  dark. 
Happily  my  folks  will  be  provided  for;  and  I  expect  to 
be  able,  if  I  must  go,  to  return  in  a  few  years.  It  is  barely 
possible  that  I  might  get  into  journalism  in  Japan, — but 
not  at  all  sure.  I  suppose  you  know  that  is  my  living  pro 
fession:  I  understand  all  kinds  of  newspaper  work.  But 
as  I  am  no  believer  in  conventions,  I  am  not  likely  to  get 
any  of  the  big  sinecures.  To  do  that  one  must  be  a  ladies ' 
man,  a  member  of  some  church,  a  social  figure.  I  am  no 
ladies*  man:  I  am  known  to  the  world  as  an  'infidel,'  and 
I  hate  society  unutterably.  Were  I  rich  enough  to  live 
where  I  please,  I  should  certainly  (if  unable  to  live  in 
Japan)  return  to  the  tropics.  Indeed,  I  have  a  faint 
hope  of  passing  at  least  the  winters  of  my  old  age  near 
the  Equator.  Where  the  means  are  to  come  from  I  don't 
know;  but  I  have  a  kind  of  faith  in  Goethe's  saying,  that 
whatever  a  man  most  desires  in  youth,  he  will  have  an 
excess  of  in  his  old  age.  Leisure  to  write  books  in  a  warm 
climate  is  all  I  ask.  Pray  to  the  Gods,  if  you  believe  in 
any  Gods,  to  help  the  dream  to  be  realised. 

"Kajiwo  is  my  nightmare.  I  am  tortured  all  day  and 
all  night  by  the  problem  of  how  to  set  him  going  in  life 
before  I  become  dust.  Sometimes  I  think  how  bad  it  was 
of  me  to  have  had  a  child  at  all.  Yet  before  that,  I  did 
not  really  know  what  life  was;  and  I  would  not  lose  the 
knowledge  for  any  terms  of  gifts  of  years.  Besides,  I 
am  beginning  to  think  I  am  really  a  tolerably  good  sort 
of  fellow, — for  if  I  had  been  really  such  a  monster  of 

227 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

depravity  as  the  religious  fanatics  declared,  how  could  I 
have  got  such  a  fine  boy.  There  must  be  some  good  in 
me  anyhow.  Nobody  shall  make  a  ' Christian'  of  Kajiwo 
if  I  can  help  it — by  ' Christian'  I  mean  a  believer  in  ab 
surd  and  cruel  dogmas.  The  world  talks  much  about 
Christianity,  but  no  one  teaches  it. 

" — So  glad  to  hear  you  are  able  to  go  out  a  little 
again.  Perhaps  a  long  period  of  strong  solid  calm  health 
is  preparing  for  you.  After  the  trials  and  worries  of 
maternity  such  happy  conditions  often  come  as  a  reward. 
I  hope  to  chat  with  you  by  a  fire  when  we  are  both  old, 
and  Kaji  has  shot  up  into  a  man, — looking  like  his  aunt  a 
little — with  a  delicate  aquiline  face.  But  only  the  Eterni 
ties  know  what  his  face  will  be  like.  It  is  changeable  as 
water  now.  I  won't  send  another  photo  of  him  till  he 
looks  pretty  again. 

"With  best  love, 

"LAFCADIO  HEARN. 

"June  24,  '94. 

"I  must  go  off  travelling  in  a  couple  of  weeks.  Per 
haps  there  will  be  a  little  delay,  before  my  next  letter 
reaches  you." 

In  the  next  letter  he  touches  upon  these  travels  under 
taken  with  his  wife,  mother-in-law,  and  Kaji  (an  abbrevi 
ation  of  Kazuo,  or  Kajiwo,  as  Hearn  was  in  the  habit  of 
calling  him  at  first). 

"How  sweet  of  you,"  he  says,  "to  send  that  charming 
photo  of  the  children.  It  delighted  us  all.  Setsu  never 
saw  a  donkey — there  are  none  in  Japan ;  and  all  wondered 
at  the  strange  animal.  What  I  wondered  at  was  to  see 
what  a  perfect  pretty  little  woman  the  charming  Marjory 
is.  As  for  the  boy,  he  is  certainly  what  every  parent 
wants  a  boy  to  be  as  to  good  looks ;  but  I  also  think  he  must 

228 


KAZUO  (HEARN'S  SON,  AGED  ABOUT  SEVEN). 


KUMAMOTO 

have  a  very  sweet  temper.  I  trust  that  you  won't  allow 
the  world  to  spoil  it  for  him.  They  do  spoil  tempers  at 
some  of  the  great  public  schools.  I  cannot  believe  it  is 
necessary  to  let  young  lads  be  subjected  to  the  brutality 
of  places  like  Eton  and  Harrow.  It  hardens  them  too 
much.  The  answer  is  that  the  great  school  turns  out  the 
conquerors  of  the  world, — the  subalterns  of  Kipling, — the 
Olives, — the  daring  admirals  and  great  captains,  etc.  Per 
haps  in  this  militant  age  it  is  necessary.  But  I  notice 
the  great  thinkers  generally  come  from  other  places. 
However,  this  is  the  practical  age, — there  is  nothing  for 
philosophers,  poets,  or  painters  to  succeed  in,  unless  they 
are  independently  situated.  I  shall  try  to  make  a  good 
doctor  out  of  Kaji,  if  I  can.  I  could  never  afford  to  da 
more  for  him.  And  if  possible  I  shall  take  him  to  Eu 
rope,  and  stay  there  with  him  for  a  couple  of  years.  But 
that  is  a  far-away  matter." 

Characteristically  with  that  apprehensive  mind  of  his, 
his  son's  future,  as  Hearn  himself  confesses,  became  a 
perfect  nightmare. 

"I  must  make  an  Englishman  of  him,  I  fear.  His  hair 
has  turned*  bright  brown.  He  is  so  strong  that  I  expect 
him  to  become  a  very  powerful  man:  he  is  very  deep- 
chested  and  thick-built  and  so  heavy  now,  that  people 
think  I  am  not  telling  the  truth  about  his  age. 

"Kajiwo's  soul  seems  to  be  so  English  that  I  fancy  his 
memory  of  former  births  would  scarcely  refer  much  to 
Japan.  How  about  the  real  compound  race-soul,  though? 
One  would  have  to  recollect  having  been  two  at  the  same 
time.  This  seems  to  me  a  defect  in  the  popular  theory — 
still  the  Japanese  hold,  or  used  to  hold,  that  the  soul  is 
itself  a  multiple — that  each  person  has  a  number  of  souls. 
That  would  give  an  explanation.  Scientifically  it  is  true. 
We  are  all  compounds  of  innumerable  lives — each  a  sum  in 
an  infinite  addition — the  dead  are  not  dead — they  live  in 

229 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

all  of  us  and  move  us, — and  stir  faintly  in  every  heart 
beat.  And  there  are  ghostly  interlinkings.  Something  of 
you  must  be  in  ine,  and  of  both  of  us  in  Kajiwo. 

" — I  wonder  if  this  also  be  true  of  little  Dorothy.  It 
is  a  curious  thing  that  you  tell  me  about  the  change  in 
colour  of  the  eyes.  I  only  saw  that  happen  in  hot  climates. 
Creole  children  are  not  uncommonly  born  with  gold  hair 
and  bright  blue  eyes.  A  few  years  later  the  skin,  eyes, 
hair  seem  to  have  entirely  changed, — the  first  to  brown, 
the  two  last  to  coal-black. 

" — I  am  writing  all  this  dreamy  stuff  just  to  amuse 
my  sweet  little  sister, — because  I  can't  be  near  to  pet  her 
and  make  her  feel  very  happy.  Well,  a  little  Oriental 
theory  may  have  some  caressing  charm  for  you.  It  is  a 
very  gentle  faith — though  also  very  deep;  and  you  will 
find  in  my  book  how  much  it  interests  me. 

"Take  very,  very,  very  good  care  of  your  precious  little 
self, — and  do  not  try  to  write  till  you  feel  immensely 

strong.     Setsu  sends  sweet  words  and  wishes.     And  I ! 

11  With  love, 

"LAFCADIO  HEARN. 
"Kumamoto,  June  2,  '94." 


230 


CHAPTER  XX 
OUT   OF    THE    EAST 

"So  Japan  paid  to  learn  how  to  see  shadows  in  Nature,  in  life,  and 
in  thought.  And  the  West  taught  her  that  the  sole  business  of  the 
divine  sun  was  the  making  of  the  cheaper  kind  of  shadows.  And  the 
West  taught  her  that  the  higher-priced  shadows  were  the  sole  product 
of  Western  civilisation,  and  bade  her  admire  and  adopt.  Then  Japan 
wondered  at  the  shadows  of  machinery  and  chimneys  and  telegraph 
poles ;  and  at  the  shadows  of  mines  and  of  factories,  and  the  shadows 
in  the  hearts  of  those  who  worked  there;  and  at  the  shadows  of 
houses  twenty  storeys  high,  and  of  hunger  begging  under  them;  and 
shadows  of  enormous  charities  that  multiplied  poverty;  and  shadows 
of  social  reforms  that  multiplied  vice ;  and  the  shadows  of  shams  and 
hypocrisies  and  swallow-tail  coats ;  and  the  shadow  of  a  foreign  God, 
said  to  have  created  mankind  for  the  purpose  of  an  auto-da-fe. 
Whereat  Japan  became  rather  serious,  and  refused  to  study  any  more 
silhouettes.  Fortunately  for  the  world,  she  returned  to  her  first 
matchless  art;  and,  fortunately  for  herself,  returned  to  her  own 
beautiful  faith.  But  some  of  the  shadows  still  cling  to  her  life;  and 
she  cannot  possibly  get  rid  of  them.  Never  again  can  the  world 
seem  to  her  quite  so  beautiful  as  it  did  before." 

AFTER  the  lapse  of  a  certain  amount  of  time  Hearn 
gradually  became  more  reconciled  to  Kumamoto.  The 
climate  agreed  with  him,  he  put  on  flesh,  all  his  Japanese 
clothes,  he  declared,  even  his  kimono,  had  become  too 
small.  "I  cannot  say  whether  this  be  the  climate,  the 
diet,  or  what.  Setsu  says  it  is  because  I  have  a  good  wife : 
but  she  might  be  prejudiced,  you  know." 

It  is  more  likely  that  his  well-being  at  this  time  arose 
from  his  having  given  up  the  experiment  of  living  ex 
clusively  on  a  Japanese  regimen.  After  his  bout  of  illness 
at  Matsue,  lie  found  that  he  could  not  recuperate  on  the 

231 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

fare  of  the  country,  even  when  reinforced  with  eggs. 
Having  lived  for  ten  months  thus,  horribly  ashamed  as 
he  was  to  confess  his  weakness,  he  found  himself  obliged 
to  return  to  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  and  devoured  enor 
mous  quantities  of  beef  and  fowl,  and  drank  terrific  quanti 
ties  of  beer.  "The  fault  is  neither  mine  nor  that  of  the 
Japanese:  it  is  the  fault  of  my  ancestors,  the  ferocious, 
wolfish  hereditary  instincts  and  tendencies  of  boreal  man 
kind.  The  sins  of  the  fathers,  etc." 

Meantime,  his  knowledge  of  the  strange  people  amongst 
whom  his  lot  was  cast  was  deepening  and  expanding. 
"Out  of  the  East/'  the  collection  of  essays — essence  of 
experiences  accumulated  at  this  time,  and  the  book,  next 
perhaps  to  "Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar  Japan,"  by  which  he 
is  best  known — is  typical  of  his  genius  at  its  best  and  at 
its  worst.  The  first  sketch,  entitled,  "The  Dream  of  a 
Summer's  Day,"  is  simply  a  bundle  of  impressions  of  the 
journey  to  which  he  alludes  when  writing  to  his  sister, 
made  from  Nagasaki  to  Kumamoto,  along  the  shores  of 
the  Inland  Sea.  This  journey,  through  some  of  the  most 
beautiful  scenery  of  Japan,  after  the  horrors  of  a  foreign 
hotel  at  an  open  port,  was  one  of  those  experiences  that 
form  an  epoch  in  an  artist's  life,  touching  him  with  the 
magic  wand  of  inspiration.  All  the  delightful  impres 
sions  made  by  the  poetry  and  the  elusive  beauty  of  old 
Japan  seem  concentrated  into  six  pages  of  poetic  prose. 
To  the  world  it  is  known  as  "The  Dream  of  a  Summer's 
Day."1  To  those  who  have  been  in  Japan,  and  love  the 
delicate  beauty  of  her  mountain  ranges,  the  green  of  her 
rice-fields,  and  the  indigo  shadows  of  her  cryptomeria- 
groves,  it  summons  up  delightful  memories,  the  rapture 
felt  in  the  crystalline  atmosphere,  its  picturesque  little 
people,  its  running  waters,  the  flying  gleams  of  sunlight, 
the  softly  tolling  bells,  the  distant  ridges  blue  and  remote 

i  "Out  of  the  East,"  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

232 


DOROTHY  ATKINSON. 


OUT  OF  THE  EAST 

in  the  warm  air.  Like  a  bubbling  spring  the  sense  of 
beauty  broke  forth  from  the  caverns  of  ancient  memory, 
where,  according  to  Lafcadio,  it  had  lain  imprisoned  for 
years,  to  ripple  and  murmur  sweet  music  in  his  ears.  He 
went  back  to  the  days  of  his  childhood,  back  to  dreams 
lying  in  the  past  in  what  had  become  for  him  an  alien 
land;  the  fragrance  of  a  most  dear  memory  swept  over 
his  senses.  The  gnat  of  the  soul  of  him  flitted  out  into 
the  gleam  of  blue  'twixt  sea  and  sun,  back  to  the  cedarn 
balcony  pillars  of  the  Japanese  hotel,  whence  he  could  see 
the  opening  of  the  bay  and  the  horizon,  haunted  by  moun 
tain  shapes,  faint  as  old  memories,  and  then  again  to  dis 
tant  and  almost  forgotten  memories  of  his  youth  by  Lough 
Corrib,  in  the  West  of  Ireland,  the  result  being  as  beautiful 
a  prose  poem  as  Hearn  ever  wrote. 

The  last  essay  in  the  collection  is  called  "Yuko,"  a 
reminiscence. 

There  are  many  of  Lafcadio  Hearn 's  critics  who  say 
that,  in  consequence  of  his  ignorance  of  the  Japanese 
language,  and  the  isolation  in  which  he  lived,  he  never 
could  have  known  anything  really  of  the  innermost 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  people  to  whom  he  professed 
to  act  as  interpreter.  Sometimes  they  maintain  that  his 
views  are  unfavourable  to  an  exaggerated  extent,  at  an 
other  too  laudatory.  His  essay  entitled  "Yuko"  might 
certainly  be  taken  as  an  example  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  selected  certain  superficial  manifestations  as  typical  of 
the  inner  life  of  the  Japanese — a  people  as  reserved,  as 
secretive,  as  difficult  to  follow  in  their  emotional  aspects 
as  the  hidden  currents  to  which  he  compares  them,  quot 
ing  the  words  of  Kipling's  pilot:  "And  if  any  man 
comes  to  you,  and  says,  'I  know  the  Jawa  currents/  don't 
you  listen  to  him;  for  those  currents  is  never  yet  known 
to  mortal  man!" 

Yuko  was  a  servant-maid  in  a  wealthy  family  at  Kine- 

233 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

gawa.  She  had  read  in  the  daily  newspaper  the  account 
of  the  attempt  on  the  life  of  the  Czarevitch  dur 
ing  his  visit  to  Japan  in  1891.  Being  an  hysterical, 
excitable  girl,  she  was  apparently  wound  up  to  the  pitch 
of  temporary  insanity.  Leaving  her  employer's  home, 
she  made  her  way  to  Kyoto,  and  there,  buying  a  razor, 
she  cut  her  throat  opposite  the  gate  of  the  Mikado 's  palace. 
Hearn  writes  of  the  incident  as  if  the  girl  were  a  Joan  of 
Arc,  obeying  the  dictates  of  the  most  fervent  patriotism. 
He  goes  to  the  extent  of  describing  the  Mikado,  "The  Son 
of  Heaven/1  hearing  of  the  girl's  death,  and  "augustly 
ceasing  to  mourn  for  the  crime  that  had  been  committed 
because  of  the  manifestations  of  the  great  love  his  people 
bore  him." 

Afterwards,  Hearn  admitted  that  his  enthusiasm  was 
perhaps  exaggerated,  for  revelations  showed  that  Yuko,  in 
a  letter  she  had  left,  had  spoken  of  "a  family  claim." 
Under  the  raw  strong  light  of  these  commonplace  revela 
tions,  he  confessed  that  his  little  sketch  seemed  for  the 
moment  much  too  romantic,  and  yet  the  real  poetry  of  the 
event  remained  unlessened — the  pure  ideal  that  impelled 
a  girl  to  take  her  own  life  merely  to  give  proof  of  the  love 
and  loyalty  of  a  nation.  No  small,  mean,  dry  facts  could 
ever  belittle  that  large  fact. 

Let  those,  however,  who  say  that  Hearn  did  not  under 
stand  the  enigmatical  people  amongst  whom  his  lines  were 
cast,  read  his  article  on  "Jiu-jitsu"  in  this  same  volume. 
It  is  headed  by  a  quotation  from  the  * '  Tao-Te-King. " 
"Man  at  his  birth  is  supple  and  weak;  at  his  death,  firm 
and  strong.  So  is  it  with  all  things.  .  .  .  Firmness 
and  strength  are  the  concomitants  of  death;  softness  and 
weakness  are  the  concomitants  of  life.  Hence  he  who  re 
lies  upon  his  own  strength  shall  not  conquer."  Preach 
ing  from  this  text,  Hearn  writes  a  masterly  article,  show 
ing  how  Japan,  though  apparently  adopting  western 

234 


OUT  OF  THE  EAST 

inventions,  preserves  her  own  genius  and  mode  of  thought 
in  all  vital  questions  absolutely  unchanged.  The  essay 
ends  with  a  significant  paragraph,  showing  how  we  occi 
dentals,  who  have  exterminated  feebler  races  by  merely 
over-living  them,  may  be  at  last  exterminated  ourselves  by 
races  capable  of  under-living  us,  more  self-denying,  more 
fertile,  and  less  expensive  for  nature  to  support.  Inherit 
ing,  doubtless,  our  wisdom,  adopting  our  more  useful  in 
ventions,  continuing  the  best  of  our  industries — perhaps 
even  perpetuating  what  is  most  worthy  to  endure  in  our 
sciences  and  our  arts;  pushing  us  out  of  the  progress  of 
the  world,  as  the  dinotherium,  or  the  ichthyosaurus,  were 
pushed  out  before  us. 

Towards  the  end  of  his  stay  at  Kumamoto,  he  wrote  one 
of  his  delightful,  whimsically  affectionate  letters  to  his 
old  friend,  Mr.  Watkin,  in  answer  apparently  to  one  from 
him,  recalling  their  talks  and  expeditions  in  the  old  days 
at  Cincinnati,  and  expressing  his  gratitude  for  the  infinite 
patience  and  wisdom  shown  in  his  treatment  of  his 
naughty,  superhumanly  foolish,  detestable  little  friend. 
"Well,  I  wish  I  were  near  you  to  love  you,  and  make  up 
for  all  old  troubles."  He  then  tells  his  "dad"  that  he 
has  been  able  to  save  between  $3,500  and  $4,000,  that  he 
has  placed  in  custody  in  his  wife's  name.  The  reaction, 
he  said,  against  foreign  influence  was  very  strong,  and  the 
future  looked  more  gloomy  every  day.  Eventually,  he 
supposed,  he  must  leave  Japan  and  work  elsewhere,  and  he 
ends,  "When  I  first  met  you  I  was  nineteen.  I  am  now 
forty-four — well,  I  suppose  I  must  have  lots  more  trouble 
before  I  go  to  Nirvana." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  Chinese-Japanese  War  Hearn 
was  worried  with  anxiety  on  the  subject  of  the  noncontin- 
uance  of  his  appointment  at  the  Kumamoto  College. 
"Government  Service,"  he  writes  to  Amenomori,  "is  un 
certain  to  the  degree  of  terror, — a  sword  of  Damocles; 

235 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

and  Government  doesn't  employ  men  like  you  as  teachers. 
If  it  did,  and  would  give  them  what  they  should  have,  the 
position  of  a  foreign  teacher  would  be  pleasant  enough. 
He  would  be  among  thinkers  and  find  some  kindness, — in 
stead  of  being  made  to  feel  that  he  is  the  servant  of  petty 
political  clerks."  He  approached  Page  Baker,  his  old 
New  Orleans  friend,  asking  him  if  he  could  get  him  any 
thing  if  he  started  in  the  spring  for  America.  Something 
good  enough  to  save  money  at,  not  only  for  himself,  but 
something  that  would  enable  him  to  send  money  to  Japan ; 
he  was  not  desirous  of  seeing  Boston,  New  York  or  Phila 
delphia,  but  would  rather  be  in  Memphis,  Charleston,  or 
glorious  Florida.  Page  Baker  had  apparently  been  send 
ing  him  help,  for  on  June  2nd  Hearn  writes  acknowledging 
a  draft  for  one  hundred  and  sixty-three  pounds,  thanking 
him  ten  thousand  times  from  the  bottom  of  his  much 
scarified  heart.  ' '  I  am  now  forty-four, ' '  he  adds,  '  *  and  as 
grey  as  a  badger.  Unless  I  can  make  enough  to  educate 
my  boy  well,  I  don't  know  what  I'm  worth, — but  I  feel 
that  I  shall  have  precious  little  time  to  do  it  in ;  add  twenty 
to  forty-four,  and  how  much  is  left  of  a  man  ?  ' : 

In  another  letter  he  again  alludes  to  the  manner  in 
which  the  government  are  cutting  down  the  number  of 
employes:  "My  contract  runs  only  until  March,"  he 
ends,  "and  my  chances  are  0." 

At  last,  after  many  hesitations,  he  definitely  decided  to 
leave  government  service,  and  in  the  autumn  of  1894  ac 
cepted  the  offer  of  a  position  on  the  staff  of  the  Kobe 
Chronicle  made  by  Mr.  Robert  Young,  proprietor  and 
editor  of  the  newspaper. 

To  his  sister  he  wrote  from  the  Kobe  Chronicle  office, 
Kobe,  Japan : — 


236 


" 


OUT  OF  THE  EAST 

DEAR  MINNIE, 

I  am  too  much  in  a  whirl  just  now  to  write  a 
good  letter  to  you  (whose  was  the  little  curl  in  your  last  ? 
—  you  never  told  me).  I  am  writing  only  to  say  that  I 
have  left  the  Government  Service  to  edit  a  paper  in  one  of 
the  open  ports.  This  is  returning  to  my  old  profession, 
and  is  pleasant  enough,  —  though  not  just  now  very  lucra 
tive. 

"Best  love  to  you.  Perhaps  we  shall  meet  in  a  few 
years.  My  boy  is  well,  beginning  to  walk  a  little.  My 
book  was  to  be  issued  on  the  29th  Sept. 

"Ever  affectionately, 

"LAFCADIO." 


237 


CHAPTER  XXI 
KOBE 

LAST  spring  I  journeyed  to  Japan  with  Mrs.  Atkinson, 
Lafcadio  Hearn's  half-sister,  and  her  daughter.  Mrs. 
Atkinson  was  anxious  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  her 
Japanese  half-sister-in-law  to  ascertain  the  circumstances 
surrounding  the  family,  also  if  it  were  possible  to  carry 
out  her  half-brother's  wishes  with  regard  to  educating  his 
eldest  son,  Kazuo — his  Benjamin — in  England. 

The  first  place  at  which  we  landed  was  Kobe,  situated 
on  the  eastern  end  of  the  Inland  Sea,  opposite  Osaka,  the 
Manchester  of  Japan. 

Kobe  is  numbered  among  the  open  ports.  Consuls  can. 
fly  their  country's  flag  and  occupy  offices  on  the  "Bund." 
Surrounding  the  bay  are  a  number  of  German,  American 
and  British  warehouses.  Foreigners  also  are  allowed  to 
reside  in  the  city  under  Japanese  law. 

During  the  six  weeks  on  board  the  P.  &  0.  coming 
out,  I  had  been  reading  Hearn's  books,  and  was  steeped 
in  the  legendary  lore,  the  "hidden  soul-life "  of  ancient 
Nippon.  At  Moji — gateway  of  the  Inland  Sea — it  had 
blown  a  gale,  and  the  Japanese  steamer,  the  Chikugo  Haru, 
to  which  we  had  transhipped  at  Shanghai,  was  obliged  to 
come  to  anchor  under  the  headland.  The  ecstasy,  there 
fore,  after  rolling  in  a  heavy  sea  all  night,  of  floating  into 
the  calm,  sun-bathed  waters  of  the  Inland  Sea,  made  the 
enchantment  all  the  more  bewitching.  Reclining  in  our 
deck-chairs,  we  looked  on  the  scene  as  it  slowly  passed  be 
fore  our  eyes,  and  yielded,  without  a  struggle,  to  the  ex- 

238 


KOBE 

quisite  and  fantastical  charm  of  the  spirit  of  Old  Japan. 
For  what  seemed  uncounted  hours  we  crept  between  the 
dim  boundaries  of  tinted  mountains,  catching  glimpses 
here  and  there  of  mysterious  bays  and  islands,  of  shadowy 
avenues,  arched  by  symbolic  Torii  leading  to  ancient 
shrines,  of  groups  of  fishing  villages  that  seemed  to  have 
grown  on  the  shore,  their  thatched  roofs  covered  with  the 
purple  flowers  of  the  roof  plant,  the  "Yane-shobu."  At 
first  we  endeavoured  to  decipher  in  Murray  the  names  of 
the  enchanting  little  hamlets,  with  their  cedarn  balconies, 
high-peaked  gables,  and  quaint  terraced  gardens,  inhabited 
by  a  strange  people  in  geta  and  kimono,  like  figures  on  a 
Japanese  screen  depicting  a  scene  of  hundreds  of  years 
ago.  Across  the  mind  of  almost  every  one  the  magic  of 
Japan  strikes  with  a  sensation  of  strangeness  and  delight, 
— a  magic  that  gives  the  visitor  a  sense  of  great  issues,  and 
remote  visions,  telling  of  a  kingdom  dim  and  half-appre 
hended.  Unsubstantial  and  fragile  as  all  these  villages 
looked,  they  were  hallowed  by  memorable  stories  of  hero 
ism  and  self-sacrifice,  either  in  the  last  war  with  Russia 
and  China,  or  in  her  own  internecine  fights  centuries  ago ; 
chronicles  of  men  who  had  fought  heroically  and  died  un 
complainingly  in  defence  of  their  country,  chronicles  of 
women  who  had  scorned  to  weep  when  told  of  the  death 
of  husbands,  fathers  and  brothers  in  the  pest-stricken  rice- 
fields  of  China,  or  in  the  trenches  before  Port  Arthur. 

A  warm,  perfect  noon  came  and  went,  and  the  sun 
that  had  poured  himself  from  above  into  the  earth  as  into 
a  cup,  gradually  descended,  as  we  crept  up  the  waters  of 
the  Inland  Sea,  towards  the  shoulders  of  the  eastern  peaks, 
until  they  turned  saffron  and  then  flushed  pink,  and  then 
paled  to  green. 

There  was  no  moon,  but  the  night  stretched  in  pale 
radiance  overhead.  And  as  we  watched  the  stars  burn 
with  the  extraordinary  brilliancy  peculiar  to  Japan,  we 

239 


LAFCAJDIO  HEARN 

dreamed  that  we  looked  on  the  River  Celestial,  the  Ghost 
of  Waters.  We  saw  the  mists  hovering  along  the  verge, 
and  the  water  grasses  that  bend  in  the  winds  of  autumn, 
and  we  knew  that  the  falling  dew  was  the  spray  from  the 
herdsman's  oar.  And  the  heavens  " seemed  very  near, 
and  warm,  and  human ;  and  the  silence  about  us  was  filled 
with  the  dream  of  a  love  unchanging,  immortal,  for  ever 
yearning  and  for  ever  young,  and  for  ever  left  unsatisfied 
by  the  paternal  wisdom  of  the  Gods. ' ' 

The  open  port  of  Kobe  came  like  an  awakening  out  of 
a  delicious  dream.  It  was  impossible  not  to  feel  exasper 
ated  with  the  Germans,  Englishmen  and  Americans  who 
have  desecrated  an  earthly  paradise  with  red-brick  erec 
tions,  factory  chimneys,  and  plate-glass  shop-fronts;  easy 
was  it  to  understand  Hearn's  railings  against  the  moderni 
sation  of  the  country. 

Not  far,  however,  had  the  foreign  wedge  been  driven  in. 
After  a  short  kuruma  journey  from  the  landing-stage  to 
the  hotel,  we  were  back  again  in  the  era  of  Kusimoki 
Marahige. 

Foreign  names  may  have  been  given  to  the  hills,  and 
stretches  of  sea  coast, — Aden,  Bismarck  Hill,  Golf  Links 
Valley ; — ancient  Nippon  keeps  them  as  her  own,  with  their 
Shinto  and  Buddhist  temples,  surrounded  by  woods  of 
cryptomeria  and  camphor-trees.  Their  emotional  and  in 
tellectual  life  is  no  more  altered  by  their  occidental  neigh 
bours  than  the  surface  of  a  mirror  is  changed  by  passing 
reflections,  as  says  their  interpreter,  Lafcadio  Hearn. 

Next  to  the  hotel — as  if  to  emphasise  its  nationality — 
was  an  ancient  pine-surrounded  cemetery,  set  with  tall 
narrow  laths  of  unpainted  wood;  while  behind,  to  the 
summit  of  the  hill,  stretched  a  blue-grey  sea  of  tiles,  a 
cedar  world  of  engawa  and  shoji,  indescribable  whimsicali 
ties,  representing  another  world  in  its  picturesqueness  and 
grotesquery.  But  it  was  not  only  in  these  visible  objects 

240 


KOBE 

that  a  strange,  unexpected  life  manifested  itself.  In  the 
street,  as  you  passed  along,  dim  surmises  of  some  inscrut 
able  humanity — another  race  soul,  charming,  fascinating, 
and  yet  alien  to  your  own,  formulated  itself  to  your  west 
ern  consciousness.  The  bowing,  the  smiling,  the  arrange 
ment  of  flowers  in  the  poorest  shanties,  the  banners  and 
lanterns  with  marvellous  drawings  and  ideographs;  the 
children  singing  nursery  rhymes  in  an  unknown  language ; 
others  sitting  naked  in  hot  tubs,  a  woman  with  elaborately 
dressed  hair  stuck  over  with  large-headed  pins,  and  rouged 
and  powdered  cheeks,  cleansing  her  teeth  over  the  street 
gutter,  while  behind  were  glimpses  of  curious  interiors 
where  men  and  women  were  squatting  on  the  floor  like 
Buddhas,  some  reading,  some  with  brushes  writing  on  long 
strips  of  paper  from  right  to  left. 

Enigmatical,  incomprehensible  it  might  be,  but  there  was 
nothing  displeasing,  nothing  objectionable  as  in  a  native 
Arab  town,  or  even  in  the  streets  of  Canton  or  Shanghai. 
No  unhappy  children,  or  cross,  red-faced  women ;  no  coarse, 
drunken  men,  no  loud  voices,  no  brawling.  Though  all 
was  alien  to  your  traditions,  you  were  forced  to  acknowl 
edge  a  charm,  a  refinement,  a  courtesy,  a  kindliness  far 
superior  to  those  to  be  found  in  European  cities. 

The  conditions  existing  in  Kobe  when  Hearn  arrived 
in  1895  were  not  satisfactory  from  a  sanitary  point  of 
view.  Cholera  had  come  with  the  victorious  army  from 
China,  and  had  carried  off,  during  the  hot  season,  about 
thirty  thousand  people.  The  smoke  and  odour  from  the 
funeral  pyres  that  burnt  continually,  came  wind-blown 
into  Hearn 's  garden  down  from  the  hills  behind  the  town, 
just  to  remind  him,  as  he  says,  "that  the  cost  of  burning 
an  adult  of  my  own  size  is  80  sen — about  half  a  dollar  in 
American  money  at  the  present  rate  of  exchange." 

From  the  upper  balcony  of  his  house  the  Japanese 
street,  with  its  rows  of  little  shops,  was  visible  to  the  bay ; 

241 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

from  thence  he  watched  the  cholera  patients  being  taken 
away,  and  the  bereaved,  as  soon  as  the  law  allowed,  flit 
ting  from  the  paper-shuttered  abodes,  while  the  ordinary 
life  of  the  street  went  on  day  and  night,  as  if  nothing 
particular  had  happened.  The  itinerant  vendors  with 
their  bamboo  poles,  and  baskets  or  buckets,  passed  the 
empty  houses  and  uttered  their  accustomed  cry;  the  blind 
shampooer  blew  his  melancholy  whistle;  the  private 
watchman  made  his  heavy  staff  boom  upon  the  gutter-flags ; 
and  the  children  chased  one  another  as  usual  with  screams 
and  laughter.  Sometimes  a  child  vanished,  but  the  sur 
vivors  continued  their  play  as  if  nothing  had  happened, 
according  to  the  wisdom  of  the  ancient  East. 

A  supersensitive  man,  not  in  robust  health,  must  have 
felt  acutely  the  depressing  effects  of  this  state  of  things. 
Sclerosis  of  the  arteries  and  other  symptoms  of  heart  fail 
ure,  warned  him  during  this  autumn  of  1895  that  he  was 
"descending  the  shady  side  of  the  hill."  An  attack  of 
inflammation  of  the  eyes  also  gave  him  much  trouble. 
He  had  been  worried,  he  says  in  a  letter  to  Page  Baker, 
by  the  fear  that  either  he  or  his  friend  might  die  before 
they  met  again.  "I  think  of  you  a  great  deal.  .  .  . 
You  are  a  long-lived,  tough  race,  you  Bakers.  Page 
Baker  will  be  most  likely  writing  some  day  things  of  Laf- 
cadio  Hearn  that  was,  which  the  said  Lafcadio  never  de 
served,  and  never  will  deserve." 

Death  had  no  terrors  for  Lafcadio  Hearn,  but  the  pre 
monitions  of  physical  shipwreck  that  beset  him  now  de 
pressed  him  heart  and  soul  because  of  the  work  still  left 
undone. 

He  would  like  nothing  so  much,  he  said,  as  to  get  killed, 
if  he  had  no  one  but  himself  in  the  world  to  take  care  of 
—which  is  just  why  he  wouldn't  get  killed.  He  couldn't 
afford  luxuries  until  his  work  was  done. 

To  his  sister  he  writes: — 

242 


KOBE 

"I  have  been  on  my  back  in  a  dark  room  for  a  month 
with  inflammation  of  the  eyes,  and  cannot  write  much. 
Thanks  for  sweet  letter.  I  received  a  Daily  News  from 
you, — many,  many  thanks.  Did  not  receive  the  other  pa 
pers  you  spoke  of — probably  they  were  stolen  in  Kuma- 
moto.  I  fear  I  cannot  do  much  newspaper  work  for 
some  time.  The  climate  does  not  seem  to  suit  my  eyes, — 
a  hot  climate  would  be  better.  I  may  be  able  to  make  a 
trip  next  winter  to  some  tropical  place,  if  I  make  any 
money  out  of  my  books.  My  new  book — * '  Out  of  the 
East" — will  be  published  soon  after  this  letter  reaches 
you. 

''Future  looks  doubtful — don't  feel  very  jolly  about  it. 
The  mere  question  of  living  is  the  chief  annoyance.  I  am 
offered  some  further  work  in  Kobe,  that  would  leave  me 
leisure  (they  promise)  for  my  own  literary  work,  but  I 
am  not  sure.  However,  the  darkest  hour  is  before  the 
dawn,  perhaps. 

"Kaji  is  well  able  to  walk  now,  and  talks  a  little. 
Every  day  his  hair  is  growing  brighter;  a  thorough  Eng 
lish  boy. 

"Excuse  bad  eyes. 

"Love  to  you, 

"LAFCADIO." 

Although  more  than  twelve  years  had  elapsed  between 
our  visit  and  the  period  when  Hearn  had  resided  in  Kobe, 
nearly  every  one  remembered  the  odd  little  journalist, 
who  might  be  seen  daily  making  his  way,  in  his  shy,  near 
sighted  fashion,  from  his  house  in  Kitinagasa  Dori,  to  the 
office  of  the  Kobe  Chronicle. 

Dr.  Papellier  of  Kobe,  who  attended  Hearn  in  a  pro 
fessional  capacity  at  this  time,  was  full  of  reminiscences. 
Long  before  meeting  him  at  Kobe  Dr.  Papellier  had  been 
a  great  admirer  of  his  genius,  had,  indeed,  when  surgeon 

243 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

on  board  a  German  vessel,  translated  " Chita"  for  a  Nu- 
remburg  paper. 

Being  an  oculist,  one  of  his  first  injunctions,  as  soon 
as  he  examined  Hearn 's  eyes,  was  cessation  from  all  work 
and  rest  in  a  darkened  room  if  he  wished  to  escape  total 
blindness.  The  right  eye  was  myopic  to  an  extent  seldom 
seen,  and  at  the  moment  was  so  severely  inflamed  by 
neuritis  that  the  danger  of  an  affection  to  the  retina 
seemed  imminent, — the  left  was  entirely  blind.  For  the 
purpose  of  keeping  up  his  spirits,  under  this  unwonted 
constraint,  Dr.  Papellier,  in  spite  of  his  professional  en 
gagements,  went  out  of  his  way  to  visit  the  little  man  fre 
quently,  and  would  stop  hours  chatting;  showed  him,  in 
deed,  a  kindness  and  consideration  that,  we  were  told, 
were  quite  exceptional.  Hearn,  Dr.  Papellier  relates,  was 
a  good  and  fluent  talker,  content  to  keep  the  ball  rolling 
himself,  and  preferred  an  attentive  listener  rather  than 
a  person  who  stated  his  own  opinions. 

Their  topics  of  conversations  circled  round  the  char 
acteristics  of  the  civilisation  in  which  they  were  living. 
Hearn 's  emotional  enthusiasm  for  the  Japanese,  the  doc 
tor  said,  had  cooled;  he  had  received  several  shocks  in 
dealing  with  officials  at  Kumamoto,  and  said  his  illusions 
were  vanishing,  and  he  wanted  to  leave  the  country; 
France,  China,  or  the  South  Sea  Islands  seemed  each  in 
turn  to  attract  his  wayward  fancy. 

The  account  of  Stevenson's  life  in  Samoa  had  made  a 
great  impression  on  him.  He  declared  that  if  he  had  not 
his  Japanese  family  to  look  after  he  would  pack  up  his 
books  of  reference  and  start  at  once  for  Samoa. 

"His  wife,  who  understood  no  English  at  all,  seldom 
appeared,  a  servant  girl  usually  attending  to  his  wants 
when  I  was  present. 

"It  struck  me  at,  the  time  that  his  knowledge  of  the 
Japanese  vernacular  was  very  poor  for  a  man  of  his 

244 


KOBE 

intelligence,  who,  for  nearly  four  years,  had  lived  almost 
entirely  in  the  interior,  surrounded  by  those  who  could 
only  talk  the  language  of  the  country. 

"It  was  plain  that  what  he  knew  about  Japan  must 
have  been  gained  through  the  medium  of  interpreters.  I 
was  still  more  surprised  when  I  discovered  how  extremely 
near-sighted  he  was.  His  impressions  of  scenery  or  Jap 
anese  works  of  art  could  never  have  been  obtained  as 
ordinary  people  obtain  them.  The  details  had  to  be 
studied  piece  by  piece  with  a  small  telescope,  and  then 
described  as  a  whole." 

His  mode  of  life,  Dr.  Papellier  said,  was  almost  penuri 
ous,  although  he  must  have  been  receiving  a  good  salary 
from  the  Kobe  Chronicle,  and  was  making  something  by 
his  books.  At  home  he  dressed  invariably  in  Japanese 
style ;  his  clothes  being  very  clean  and  neat.  The  furniture 
of  his  small  house  was  scanty.  His  food,  which  was 
partly  Japanese  and  partly  so-called  "foreign,"  was  pre 
pared  in  a  small  restaurant  somewhere  in  the  town.  In 
his  position  as  medical  attendant  Papellier  regarded  it  as 
his  duty  to  remonstrate  on  this  point,  impressing  upon 
him  that  he  ought  to  remember  the  drain  on  his 
constitution  of  the  amount  of  brain  work  that  he  was 
doing,  both  at  the  Kobe  Chronicle  office  and  writing  at 
home. 

There  were  reasons  for  this  that  Hearn  would  not  care 
to  tell  Papellier.  Mrs.  Koizumi  was  in  delicate  health, 
expecting  her  second  child,  and  Hearn  doubtless,  with 
that  consideration  that  invariably  distinguished  him  in 
his  treatment  of  his  wife,  had  his  food  brought  from  out 
side  so  as  to  save  her  the  trouble  and  exertion  of  cooking 
it  at  home.  Only  in  one  way,  Papellier  said,  did  he  allow 
himself  any  indulgence,  and  that  was  in  the  amount  he 
smoked.  Although  he  seldom  took  spirits,  he  smoked  in 
cessantly — not  cigars,  but  a  small  Japanese  pipe — a  kizeru 

245 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

— which  he  handled  in  a  skilful  way,  lighting  one  tiny 
tobacco  pellet  in  the  glowing  ashes  of  the  one  just  con 
sumed.  One  of  his  hobbies  was  collecting  pipes,  the  other 
was  collecting  books.  He  had  already  got  together  a 
valuable  library  at  New  Orleans,  he  did  the  same  in  Japan. 
He  was  able  to  exercise  these  hobbies  inexpensively,  but 
they  needed  knowledge,  time  and  patience.  At  his  death 
he  possessed  more  than  two  hundred  pipes,  all  shapes  and 
sizes. 

Every  one  whom  we  met  when  we  arrived  at  Kobe 
advised  us  to  call  on  the  editor  of  the  Kobe  Chronicle  if 
we  wanted  information  on  the  subject  of  Lafcadio  Hearn. 
We  therefore  made  our  way  to  the  Kobe  Chronicle  office 
as  soon  as  we  could.  Mr.  Young  as  well  as  Mrs.  Young, 
whose  acquaintance  we  made  subsequently,  were  both  full 
of  reminiscences  of  the  odd  little  genius. 

He  generally  made  it  a  rule  to  drop  into  the  Youngs' 
house  every  Sunday  for  lunch ;  his  particular  fancy  in  the 
way  of  food,  or,  at  all  events,  the  only  thing  he  expressed 
a  fancy  for,  was  plum-pudding — a  plum-pudding  there 
fore  became  a  standing  dish  on  Sundays,  so  long  as  Hearn 
was  in  Kobe.  "The  Japanese, "  he  was  wont  to  say,  "are 
a  very  clever  people,  but  they  don't  understand  plum- 
pudding.'' 

Absence  of  mind,  and  inattention  to  events  passing 
around  him,  was  very  noticeable,  the  Youngs  told  us,  these 
days.  Sometimes  he  seemed  even  to  find  a  difficulty  in 
fixing  his  thoughts  on  the  identity  of  the  individual  with 
whom  he  was  conversing. 

Mrs.  Young,  if  she  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  is  an  ex 
tremely  agreeable-looking,  clear-complexioned,  chestnut- 
haired  Englishwoman.  For  some  considerable  time  Hearn 
always  addressed  her  in  Japanese.  At  last  one  day  she 
remarked:  "You  know,  Mr.  Hearn,  I  am  not  Japanese." 

246 


KOBE 

"Oh,  really,"  was  his  reply,  as  if  for  the  first  time  he  had 
realised  the  fact.  From,  that  time  forward  he  addressed 
her  in  English. 

Mr.  Young  was  kind  enough  to  furnish  me  with  copies 
of  Hearn's  editorials  during  the  seven  or  eight  months 
he  worked  on  the  staff  of  the  Kobe  Chronicle.  Though  not 
coinciding  with  many  of  Hearn's  opinions  and  conclu 
sions,  with  regard  to  the  Japanese  and  their  religious  and 
social  convictions,  Mr.  Young  gave  him  a  free  hand  so 
far  as  subject-matter  and  expression  of  opinion  were  con 
cerned.  None  of  his  contributions,  however,  are  distin 
guished  by  Hearn's  peculiar  literary  qualities.  The 
flint-edged  space  of  the  newspaper  column  cramped  and 
hampered  his  genius.  Work  with  him,  he  declared,  was 
always  a  pain,  but  writing  for  money  an  impossibility. 

Of  course,  he  said,  he  could  write,  and  write,  and  write, 
but  the  moment  he  began  to  write  for  money  the  little 
special  colour  vanished,  the  special  flavour  that  was  within 
him  evaporated,  he  became  nobody  again;  and  the  public 
wondered  why  it  paid  any  attention  to  so  commonplace 
a  fool.  So  he  had  to  sit  and  wait  for  the  gods.  His 
mind,  however,  ate  itself  when  unemployed.  Even  read 
ing  did  not  fill  the  vacuum.  His  thoughts  wandered,  and 
imaginings,  and  recollections  of  unpleasant  things  said 
or  done  recurred  to  him.  Some  of  these  unpleasant  things 
were  remembered  longer  than  others;  under  this  stimulus 
he  rushed  to  work,  wrote  page  after  page  of  vagaries, 
metaphysical,  emotional,  romantic — and  threw  them  aside. 
Then  next  day  he  rewrote  them  and  rewrote  them  until  they 
arranged  themselves  into  a  whole,  and  the  result  was  an 
essay  that  the  editor  of  the  Atlantic  declared  was  a  verita 
ble  illumination,  and  no  mortal  man  knew  how  or  why  it 
was  written,  not  even  he  himself. 

Two  of  Hearn's  characteristics,  both  of  which  militated 

247 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

considerably  against  his  being  an  effective  newspaper  cor 
respondent,  were  his  personal  bias  and  want  of  restraint. 
A  daily  newspaper  must,  above  all  things,  be  run  on 
customary  and  everyday  lines,  but  Hearn  did  not  possess 
'  the  ordinary  hold  on  the  conventional  methods  and  usages 
of  life.  For  instance,  when  treating  of  the  subject  of 
free  libraries  he  thus  expresses  himself:  "A  library  is 
now  regarded,  not  as  a  treasury  of  wisdom  and  beauty, 
but  as  a  'dumping-ground'  for  offal,  a  repository  of  hu 
man  frivolity,  insanity  and  folly.  Newspapers,  forsooth! 
— why  not  collect  and  store  the  other  things  that  wise 
men  throw  away,  cigar-ends  and  orange-peelings?  Some 
future  historian  of  the  gutter  might  like  to  see  them.  No, 
I  would  give  to  all  these  off-scourings  and  clippings  the 
same  doom." 

No  consideration  would  deter  him  from  flying  in  the 
face  of  the  ordinary  reader  if  it  suited  him  so  to  do.  He 
had  always  passionately  resisted  the  christianising  of 
Japan,  not  only  from  a«religious,  but  from  an  artistic  point 
of  view.  He  thus  roused  the  wrath  of  the  orthodox, — a 
wrath  that  pursued  him  from  this  year  in  Kobe  until  his 
death,  and  makes  the  very  sound  of  his  name  detested  in 
Christian  religious  circles  in  Japan. 

"For  myself,"  he  says  in  one  of  the  Kobe  Chronicle 
leaders,  "I  could  sympathise  with  the  individual,  but 
never  with  the  missionary  cause.  Unconsciously,  every 
honest  being  in  the  Mission  Army  is  a  destroyer, — and  a 
destroyer  only;  for  nothing  can  replace  what  they  break 
down.  Unconsciously,  too,  the  missionaries  everywhere 
represent  the  edge, — the  acies, — to  use  the  Roman  word — 
of  Occidental  aggression.  We  are  face  to  face  here  with 
the  spectacle  of  a  powerful  and  selfish  civilisation,  demor 
alising  and  crushing  a  weaker,  and,  in  many  ways  a  nobler 
one  (if  we  are  to  judge  by  comparative  ideals)  ;  and  the 
spectacle  is  not  pretty.  We  must  recognise  the  inevitable, 

248 


KOBE 

the  Cosmic  Law,  if  you  like;  but  one  feels  and  hates  the 
moral  wrong,  and  this  perhaps  blinds  one  too  much  to  the 
sacrifices  and  pains  accepted  by  the  'noble  army/  " 

Hearn's  gradually-increasing  disinclination  to  meet 
strangers  was,  at  this  time,  indicative  of  a  morbid  condition 
of  mind  and  body.  He  summarily  refused  to  hold  any 
intercourse  with  the  foreign  commercial  element  in  Kobe, 
pronouncing  them  rough  and  common.  After  life  in  the 
interior,  he  declared  life  at  an  open  port  to  be  very  un 
pleasant.  The  Germans  represented  the  best  of  the  for 
eign  element,  plain  and  homely,  which  at  all  events  was  a 
virtue.  But  he  harked  back  to  the  life  in  Old  Japan  as 
being  better,  and  cleaner,  and  higher  in  every  way,  with 
only  the  bare  means  of  Japanese  comfort,  than  the  luxury 
and  money-grabbing  at  Kobe ;  in  his  opinion,  the  Japanese 
peasant  was  ten  times  more  a  gentleman  than  a  foreign 
merchant  could  ever  learn  to  be.  ...  Then  he  in 
dulges  in  one  of  his  outbursts  against  carpets — pianos — 
windows — curtains — brass  bands — churches!  and  white 
shirts!  and  "yofuku"!  Would  that  he  had  been  born 
savage;  the  curse  of  civilised  cities  was  on  him,  and  he 
supposed  he  couldn't  get  away  permanently  from  them. 
"How  much  I  could  hate  all  that  we  call  civilisation  I 
never  knew  before.  How  ugly  it  is  I  never  could  have 
conceived  without  a  long  sojourn  in  Old  Japan — the  only 
civilised  country  that  existed  since  Antiquity." 

"Kokoro,"  the  book  written  at  this  time,  is  now  cele 
brated,  and  justly  so.  Hearn  himself  called  it  a  "crazy 
book."  Crazy,  it  may  be  designated,  from  its  very  orig 
inality,  its  strange  interpretation  of  strange  things,  the 
new  note  that  it  initiates,  and  the  sympathetic  power  it 
displays  of  divining  beliefs  and  mythologies,  the  "race 
ghost"  of  one  of  the  most  enigmatical  people  on  earth. 
"The  papers  composing  this  volume,"  he  says  in  his  pref 
ace,  "treat  of  the  inner  rather  than  of  the  outer  life  of 

249 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Japan, — for  which  reason  they  have  been  grouped  under 
the  title  'Kokoro'  (Heart)." 

Written  with  the  above  character,  this  word  signifies  also 
mind,  in  the  emotional  sense ;  spirit ;  courage ;  resolve ;  sen 
timent  ;  affection ;  and  inner  meaning — just  as  we  say  in 
English,  "the  heart  of  things." 

It  is  the  quality  of  truthful  work  that  it  never  grows 
old  or  stale;  one  can  return  to  it  again  and  again,  and  in 
interpreting  the  " heart"  of  Japan,  Hearn 's  work  is  ab 
solutely  truthful.  I  know  that  this  is  contradicted  by 
many.  Professor  Foxwell  tells  a  story  of  a  lady  tourist 
who  told  him  before  she  came  to  Japan  she  had  read 
Hearn's  books  and  thought  they  were  delightful  as  liter 
ature,  but  added,  l '  What  a  disappointment  when  you  come 
here;  the  people  are  not  at  all  like  his  descriptions!" 

The  lady  had  not  perhaps  grasped  the  fact  that  Hearn  's 
principal  book  on  Japan,  the  book  that  every  tourist  reads, 
is  called  "Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar  Japan."  The  condi 
tions  and  people  that  he  describes  are  certainly  not  to 
be  found  along  the  beaten  tourist  track  that  Western 
civilisation  has  invaded  with  webs  of  steel  and  ways  of 
iron.  He  perhaps  exaggerated  some  of  the  characteristics 
and  beliefs  of  the  strange  people  amongst  whom  he  lived, 
and  saw  romance  in  the  ordinary  course  of  the  life  around 
him,  where  romance  did  not  exist.  Dr.  Papellier,  for  in 
stance,  said  that  he  once  showed  him  a  report  in  the 
Kobe  Chronicle,  describing  the  suicide  of  a  demi-mondaine 
and  her  lover  in  a  railway  tunnel.  The  incident  formed 
the  basis  of  "The  Red  Bridal,"  published  in  "Out  of  the 
East,"  which  Papellier  declared  to  be  an  entirely  dis 
torted  account  of  the  facts  as  they  really  occurred.  It  is 
the  old  story  of  imaginative  genius  and  ordinary  common 
place  folk.  In  discussing  the  question,  Hearn  insisted  that 
every  artist  should  carry  out  the  theory  of  selection.  A 
photograph  would  give  the  unessential  and  the  essential; 

250 


KOBE 

an  artist  picks  out  important  aspects;  the  portrait-pain 
ter's  work,  though  manifestly  less  exact,  is  incomparably 
finer  because  of  its  spirituality;  though  less  technically 
correct,  it  has  acquired  the  imaginative  sentiment  of  the 
mind  of  the  artist.  When  depicting  the  Japanese  he  felt 
justified  in  emphasising  certain  excellent  qualities,  putting 
these  forward  and  ignoring  the  rest;  choosing  the  grander 
qualities,  as  portrait-painters  do,  and  passing  over  the 
petty  frailties,  the  mean  characteristics  that  might  impress 
the  casual  observer.  Nothing  is  more  lovely,  for  instance, 
than  a  Japanese  village  amongst  the  hills,  when  seen  just 
after  sunrise — through  the  mists  of  a  spring  or  autumn 
morning.  But  for  the  matter-of-fact  observer,  the  enchant 
ment  passes  with  the  vapours:  in  the  raw  clear  light  he 
can  find  no  palace  of  amethyst,  no  sails  of  gold,  but  only 
flimsy  sheds  of  wood  and  thatch  and  the  unpainted  queer- 
ness  of  wooden  junks. 

He  attained  to  a  certainty  and  precision  of  form  in 
these  "Kokoro"  essays  that  places  them  above  any  pre 
vious  work.  Now  we  can  see  the  benefit  of  his  concentra 
tion  of  mind,  of  his  earnestness  of  purpose  and  monastic 
withdrawal  from  things  of  the  world;  no  outside  influ 
ences  disturbed  his  communing  with  himself,  and  it  is  this 
communing  that  imparts  a  vague  and  visionary  atmos 
phere,  a  ghostly  thrill  to  every  page  of  the  volume. 

Yet  here  was  he,  in  the  forty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  a 
master  amongst  masters,  arguing  with  solemn  earnestness 
upon  the  use  or  mis-use  of  the  word  "shall"  and  "will," 
begging  Professor  Hall  Chamberlain  for  information  and 
guidance. 

"You  will  scarcely  be  able  to  believe  me,  I  imagine, 
but  I  must  confess  that  your  letter  on  ' shall'  and  'will' 
is  a  sort  of  revelation  in  one  sense — it  convinces  me  that 
some  people,  and  I  suppose  all  people  of  fine  English 
culture,  really  feel  a  sharp  distinction  of  meaning  in  the 

251 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

sight  and  sound  of  the  words  'will'  and  'shall.'  I  con 
fess  also  that  I  never  have  felt  such  a  distinction,  and 
cannot  feel  it  now.  I  have  been  guided  chiefly  by 
euphony,  and  the  sensation  of  'will'  as  softer  and  gentler 
than  'shall.'  The  word  'shall'  in  the  second  person  es 
pecially  has  for  me  a  queer  identification  with  English 
harshness  and  menace, — memories  of  school  perhaps.  I 
shall  study  the  differences  by  your  teaching  and  try  to 
avoid  mistakes,  but  I  think  I  shall  never  be  able  to  feel 
the  distinction.  The  tone  to  me  is  everything — the  word 
nothing. ' ' 

The  best  essays  in  "Kokoro"  were  inspired,  not  by 
Kobe,  but  by  Kyoto,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  cities  in 
Japan,  seat  of  the  ancient  government  and  stronghold  of 
the  ancient  creeds.  It  lies  only  a  short  distance  from 
Kobe,  and  many  were  the  days  and  hours  that  Hearn 
spent  dreaming  in  the  charming  old-fashioned  hotel  and 
picking  up  impressions  amidst  the  Buddhist  shrines  and 
gardens  of  the  surrounding  country.  ' '  Notes  from  a  Trav 
elling  Diary,"  " Pre-existence, "  and  the  charming  sketch 
"Kimiko,"  written  on  the  text  "To  wish  to  be  forgotten 
by  the  beloved  is  a  soul-task  harder  far  than  trying  not  to 
forget,"  all  originated  in  Kyoto. 

In  a  letter  to  his  sister  dated  March  llth.  1895,  he 
alludes  to  his  book  "Kokoro." 

"My  sweet  little  beautiful  sister,  since  my  book  is  being 
so  long  delayed  I  may  anticipate  matters  by  telling  you 
something  of  the  so-called  Ancestor-Worship  of  which  I 
spoke  in  my  last  letter.  The  subject  is  not  in  any  popular 
work  on  Japan,  and  I  think  should  interest  you,  if  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  you  are  yourself  such  a  sweet  little 
mother. 

"When  a  person  dies  in  Japan,  a  little  tablet  is  made 
which  stands  upon  a  pedestal,  and  is  about  a  foot  high. 
On  this  narrow  tablet  is  inscribed  either  the  real  name  of 

252 


KOBE 

the  dead,  or  the  Buddhist  name  given  to  the  soul.  This  is 
the  Mortuary  Tablet,  or  as  you  have  sometimes  seen  it 
called  in  books,  the  Ancestral  Tablet. 

"If  children  die  they  also  have  tablets  in  the  home, 
but  they  are  not  prayed  to, — but  prayed  for.  Nightly  the 
Mother  talks  to  her  dead  child,  advising,  reminding,  with 
words  of  caress, — just  as  if  the  little  one  were  alive,  and 
a  tiny  lamp  is  lighted  to  guide  the  little  ghostly  feet  home. 

"Well,  I  do  not  want  to  write  a  dry  essay  for  you,  but 
in  view  of  all  the  unkind  things  said  about  Japanese  be 
liefs,  I  thought  you  might  like  to  hear  this,  for  I  think  you 
will  feel  there  is  something  beautiful  in  the  rule  of  rever 
ence  to  the  dead. 

"I  hope,  though  I  am  not  at  all  sure,  that  you  will  re 
ceive  some  fairy  tales  by  this  same  mail, — as  I  have  trusted 
the  sending  of  them  to  a  Yokohama  friend.  Here  there 
are  no  book-houses  at  all — only  shops  for  the  sale  of  school 
texts.  Should  you  get  the  stories,  I  want  you  to  read 
the  'Matsuyama  Mirror'  first.  There  is  a  ghostly  beauty 
that  I  think  you  will  feel  deeply.  After  all,  the  simplest 
stories  are  the  best. 

"I  wanted  to  say  many  more  things;  but  the  mail  is 
about  to  leave,  and  I  must  stop  to-day. 

"My  little  fellow  is  trying  hard  to  talk  and  to  walk. 
He  is  now  very  fair  and  strong. 

"Tell  me,  dear  little  beautiful  sister,  how  you  are  al 
ways, — give  me  good  news  of  yourself,— and  love  me  a 
little  bit.  I  will  write  soon  again. 

"LATCADIO  HEARN." 

In  November,  1895,  Professor  Basil  Hall  Chamberlain 
visited  him  at  Kobe,  and  then  probably  the  possibility  was 
discussed  of  Hearn's  re-entering  the  government  service 
as  professor  of  English  in  the  Imperial  University  at 
Tokyo.  But  as  late  as  April,  1896,  he  still  seemed  un- 

253 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

certain  that  his  engagement  under  government  was  as 
sured. 

Professor  Toyama  wrote  to  him,  saying  that  his  becom 
ing  a  Japanese  citizen  had  raised  a  difficulty,  which  he 
hoped  might  be  surmounted.  Hearn  replied,  that  he  was 
not  worried  about  the  matter,  and  had  never  allowed  him 
self  to  consider  it  very  seriously — hinting,  at  the  same 
time,  that  he  would  not  accept  a  lower  salary.  If  Matsue 
only  had  been  a  little  warmer  in  the  winter,  he  would  rather 
be  teaching  there  than  in  Tokyo,  in  any  event  he  hoped 
some  day  to  make  a  home  there. 

About  this  time  comes  Hearn 's  last  letter  to  his  sister : — 

"MY  DEAR  LITTLE  SlS, 

"What  you  say  about  writing  for  English  papers,  etc., 
is  interesting,  but  innocent.  Men  do  not  get  opportuni 
ties  to  dispose  of  any  MS.  to  advantage  without  one  of 
two  conditions.  Either  they  must  have  struck  a  popular 
vein — become  popular  as  writers ;  or  they  must  have  social 
influence.  I  am  not  likely  to  become  popular,  and  I  have 
no  social  influence.  No  good  post  would  be  given  me, — as 
I  am  not  a  man  of  conventions,  and  I  am  highly  offensive 
to  the  Orthodoxies  who  have  always  tried  to  starve  me  to 
death — without  success,  happily,  as  yet.  I  am  looking,  how 
ever,  for  an  English  publisher,  and  hope  some  day  to  get  a 
hearing  in  some  London  print.  But  for  the  time  being,  it 
is  not  what  I  wish  that  I  can  get,  but  what  I  can.  Perhaps 
your  eyes  will  open  wide  with  surprise  to  hear  that  I  shall 
get  nothing,  or  almost  nothing  for  my  books.  The  con 
tracts  deprive  me  of  all  but  a  nominal  percentage  on  the 
2nd  thousand. 

"Well,  this  is  only  a  line  to  thank  you  for  your  sweet 
little  letter.  I  have  Marjory's  too,  and  shall  write  her 
soon.  Love,  "LAFCADIO. 

"Excuse  eyes. 

254 


KOBE 

"P.S. — I  reopened  this  letter  to  add  a  few  lines  on  sec 
ond  thought. 

''You  wrote  in  your  last  about  Sir  F.  Ball.  His  ex 
pression  of  pleasure  about  my  books  may  have  been  merely 
politeness  to  a  pretty  lady, — my  sweet  little  sister.  But 
it  may  have  been  genuine — probably  was  partly  so.  He 
could  very  easily  say  a  good  word  for  me  to  the  Editors 
of  the  great  Reviews, — the  Fortnightly,  Nineteenth  Cen 
tury,  etc. — though  I  am  not  sure  whether  his  influence 
would  weigh  with  them  very  greatly. 

"At  all  events  what  I  need  is  'a  friend  at  Court/ — and 
need  badly.  Perhaps,  perhaps  only,  my  little  sis  could 
help  me  in  that  direction.  I  think  I  might  ask  you, — when 
possible,  to  try.  The  help  an  earnest  man  wants  isn't 
money :  it  is  opportunity. 

' '  We  have  a  cozy  little  home  in  Kobe,  and  Kobe  is  pretty, 
but  I  fear  I  shall  have  to  leave  it  by  the  time  this  reaches 
you.  Therefore  perhaps  it  will  be  better  to  address  me: 
'c/o  James  E.  Beale,  Japan  Daily  Mail,  Yokohama, 
Japan.'  I  shall  soon  send  Kajiwo's  last  photo  with  some 
more  fairy  tales  written  by  myself  for  your  'bairns/ 

"Love  to  you, 

"L.  H." 

As  Lafcadio  Hearn's  biographer,  I  almost  shrink  from 
saying  that  this  was  the  last  letter  of  the  series  written 
to  his  sister,  Mrs.  Atkinson.  It  somehow  was  so  satisfactory 
to  think  of  the  exile  having  resumed  intercourse  with 
his  own  people,  and  with  his  native  land ;  but  with  however 
deep  a  feeling  of  regret,  the  fact  must  be  acknowledged 
that  he  suddenly  put  an  end  to  the  intercourse  for  some 
unaccountable  reason.  He  not  only  never  wrote  again, 
but  returned  her  envelope,  empty  of  its  contents,  without 
a  line  of  explanation.  Mrs.  Atkinson  has  puzzled  over 
the  enigma  many  times,  but  has  never  been  able  to  fathom 

255 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  reason  for  such  an  action  on  the  part  of  her  eccentric 
half-brother.  There  was  nothing,  she  declares,  in  her  let 
ter  to  wound  even  his  irritable  nerves.  At  one  time  she 
thought  it  might  have  been  in  consequence  of  the  attempts 
of  various  other  members  of  the  family  to  open  a  corre 
spondence  with  him;  he  reiterated  several  times  to  Mrs. 
Atkinson  the  statement  that  "one  sister  was  enough." 
I,  on  the  other  hand,  think  the  key  may  with  more  proba 
bility  be  found  in  a  passage  from  one  of  his  letters  written 
at  this  time,  saying  he  had  received  letters  from  relatives 
in  England  that  had  made  his  thoughts  not  blue,  but 
indigo  blue.  A  longing  had  entered  his  heart  that  each 
year  henceforward  became  stronger,  to  return  to  his  na 
tive  land,  to  hold  communion  with  those  of  his  own  race; 
this  nostalgia  was  rendered  acute  by  his  sister's  letters, 
his  literary  work  was  interfered  with  and  his  nerves  up 
set;  he  therefore  made  up  his  mind  suddenly  to  stop  the 
correspondence. 

The  person  who  behaved  thus  was  the  same  erratic 
creature,  who,  having  previously  made  an  appointment, 
on  going  to  keep  it,  rang  the  bell  and  then,  seized  with 
nervous  panic — ran  away;  or  had  fits  of  nervous  depres 
sion  lasting  for  days  because  a  printer  had  put  a  few 
commas  in  the  wrong  place  or  misspelt  some  Japanese 
words.  Hearn  possessed  supreme  intellectual  courage, 
would  stick  to  his  artistic  "pedestal  of  faith"  with  a  de 
termination  that  was  heroic,  but  where  his  nerves  were 
concerned  he  was  an  arrant  coward.  If  letters,  or  argu 
ments  with  friends,  flurried  him,  or  awakened  uncongenial 
thoughts  or  memories,  he  was  capable  of  putting  the  letters 
away  unread,  and  breaking  off  a  friendship  that  had  lasted 
for  years. 

Thinking  his  silence  might  be  caused  by  ill-health,  Mrs. 
Atkinson  wrote  several  times.  The  only  answer  she  re 
ceived  was  from  Mr.  James  Beale  of  the  Japan  Mail: — 

256 


KOBE 

"JAPAN  MAIL  Office, 
"Yokohama, 

"July  Qth,  1896. 

' '  DEAR  MADAM, 

"I  hasten  to  relieve  your  anxiety  in  regard  to  your 
brother's  health.  I  have  just  returned  from  an  expedi 
tion  in  the  North,  and  previous  to  leaving  about  a  month 
ago,  was  on  the  point  of  asking  Hearn  if  he  could  ac 
company  me,  because  it  was  a  part  of  the  country  which 
he  has  never  visited,  but  about  that  time  I  received  a 
letter  from  him  in  which  he  stated  that  he  was  very  busy 
(I  believe  he  has  another  book  on  the  stocks),  and  I  did 
not  mention  the  matter  when  I  wrote.  His  letter  was 
written  in  a  very  cheerful  strain  and  indicated  no  illness 
or  trouble  with  his  eyes.  In  regard  to  the  latter  I  have 
heard  nothing  since  the  spring  of  '95,  when,  through  rest 
from  study,  they  had  recovered  their  normal  condition. 
As  Hearn  once  lived  in  a  very  isolated  town  on  the 
West  Coast  I  used  to  receive  letters  and  other  postal  mat 
ter  for  him  and  do  little  commissions  for  him  here,  and 
I  remember  at  times  English  letters  passing  through  my 
hands.  These  were  all  carefully  reposted  to  him  as  they 
came,  and  I  should  say  that  your  letters  had  undoubtedly 
reached  him. 

"No  apology  is  necessary  on  your  part,  as  I  am  pleased 
to  afford  you  whatever  consolation  you  may  find  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  fact  that  your  brother  is  alive  and  well. 
I  think  I  may  venture  to  say  that  if  he  has  neglected  his 
friends  it  is  due  to  being  busy. 

"I  send  you  his  address  below. 
"Yours  faithfully, 

"JAS.  ELLACOTT  BEALE. 


257 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

"No.  16,  Zashiki, 

"Shichi-chome,  Bangai, 
"Naka  Zamate-dori, 
"Kobe,  Japan. 

"MRS.  M.  C.  BUCKLEY- ATKINSON. 

"Since  writing  the  foregoing  I  have  learned  that  your 
brother  has  been  appointed  to  a  post  in  the  University. 
The  announcement  will  appear  in  to-morrow's  Mail. 

"This  appointment  will  necessitate  Hearn's  removal  to 
the  capital,  and  as  the  vacation  expires  on  September 
15,  the  address  at  Kobe  I  have  given  will  not  find  him. 
As  soon  as  his  Tokyo  address  reaches  me  I  will  send  it  to 
you. 

"J.  E.  B." 

As  a  set-off  to  this  unaccountable  break  in  his  corre 
spondence  with  his  sister,  I  would  like  to  end  this  chapter 
with  a  touching  and  pathetic  letter,  addressed  to  Mrs. 
Watkin  at  Cincinnati,  and  another  to  his  "Old  Dad," 
friends  of  over  twenty  years'  standing,  but  unfortunately 
am  not  able  to  do  so.  Hitherto  Hearn's  affection  had 
been  given  to  Mr.  Watkin ;  of  his  female  belongings  he  had 
seen  but  little.  Now  apparently,  Mrs.  and  Miss  Effie  Wat- 
kin  ventured  to  address  the  "great  man,"  as  their  hus 
band's  and  father's  eccentric  Bohemian  little  friend  had 
become.  To  Mrs.  Watkin  he  touches  on  the  mysteries 
of  spiritualism  which  were  scarcely  mysteries  in  the  Far 
East;  some  day  he  hoped  to  drop  in  on  all  the  circle 
he  loved  and  talk  ghostliness.  Some  hints  of  it  appeared, 
he  said,  in  a  little  book  of  his,  "Out  of  the  East."  He 
imagined  Mr.  Watkin  to  be  more  like  Homer  than  ever. 
He  himself  had  become  grey  and  wrinkled,  fat,  too,  and 
disinclined  for  violent  exercise.  In  other  words,  he  was 
getting  down  the  shady  side  of  the  hill,  the  horizon  be 
fore  him  was  already  darkening,  and  the  winds  blowing 

258 


KOBE 

out  of  it  cold.  He  was  not  in  the  least  concerned  about 
the  enigmas,  he  said,  except  that  he  wondered  what  his 
boy  would  do  if  he  were  to  die.  To  his  "Old  Dad"  he 
writes  a  whimsically  affectionate  letter,  his  old  and  dear 
est  friend,  he  calls  him.  Practical,  material  people  pre 
dicted  that  he  was  to  end  in  gaol,  or  at  the  termination 
of  a  rope,  but  his  "Old  Dad"  always  predicted  he  would 
be  able  to  do  something.  He  was  anxious  for  as  much  suc 
cess  as  he  could  get  for  his  son's  sake.  To  have  the  future 
of  others  to  care  for  certainly  changed  the  face  of  life ;  he/ 
worked  and  hoped,  the  best  and  only  thing  to  do. 


259 


CHAPTER  XXII 
TOKYO 

".  .  .  No  one  ever  lived  who  seemed  more  a  creature  of  cir 
cumstance  than  I;  I  drift  with  various  forces  in  the  line  of  least 
resistance,  resolve  to  love  nothing,  and  love  always  too  much  for  my 
own  peace  of  mind, — places,  things,  and  persons, — and  lo!  presto! 
everything  is  swept  away,  and  becomes  a  dream,  like  life  itself.  Per 
haps  there  will  be  a  great  awakening;  and  each  will  cease  to  be  an 
Ego :  become  an  All,  and  will  know  the  divinity  of  man  by  seeing,  as 
the  veil  falls,  himself  in  each  and  all." 

ONE  of  the  greatest  sacrifices  that  Hearn  ever  made, — 
and  he  made  many  for  the  sake  of  his  wife  and  family 
— was  the  giving  up  of  his  life  in  the  patriarchal  Japan 
of  mystery  and  tradition,  with  its  Yashikis  and  ancient 
shrines — to  inhabit  the  modernised  metropolis  of  Tokyo. 
The  comparative  permanency  of  the  appointment  and  the, 
for  Japan,  high  salary  of  twenty  pounds  a  year,  combined 
with  the  fact  that  lecturing  was  less  arduous  for  his  eye 
sight  than  journalistic  work  on  the  Kobe  Chronicle,  were 
the  principal  inducements.  Still,  it  was  one  of  the  ironies 
of  Fate  that  this  shy,  irritable  creature,  who  had  an  in 
veterate  horror  of  large  cities  and  a  longing  to  get  back 
to  an  ancient  dwelling  surrounded  by  shady  gardens,  and 
high,  moss-grown  walls,  should  have  been  obliged  to  spend 
the  last  eight  years  of  his  life  in  a  place  pulsating  with 
life,  amidst  commercial  push  and  bustle. 

His  wife,  on  the  other  hand,  longed  to  live  in  the  capital, 
as  Frenchwomen  long  to  live  in  Paris.  Tokyo,  the  really 
beautiful  Tokyo — of  the  old  stories  and  picture-books — 

260 


TOKYO 

still  existed  in  her  provincial  mind;  she  knew  all  the  fa 
mous  names,  the  bridges,  streets,  and  temples. 

Hearn  appears  to  have  made  an  expedition  from  Kobe 
to  Tokyo  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1896,  to  spy  out 
the  land  and  decide  what  he  would  do.  To  his  friend, 
Ellwood  Hendrik,  he  writes,  giving  him  a  description  of 
the  university,  such  a  contrast  in  every  way  to  his  precon 
ceived  ideas,  with  its  red-brick  colleges  and  imposing 
facade,  a  structure  that  would  not  appear  out  of  place  in 
the  city  of  Boston  or  Philadelphia,  or  London. 

After  his  final  acceptance  of  the  appointment,  and  his 
move  to  the  capital,  he  experienced  considerable  difficulty 
in  finding  a  house.  21,  Tomihasa-chio,  Ichigaya,  situated 
in  Ushigome,  a  suburb  of  Tokyo,  was  the  one  he  at  last 
selected.  He  describes  it  as  a  bald  utilitarian  house  with 
no  garden,  no  surprises,  no  delicacies,  no  chromatic  con 
trasts,  a  "rat-trap,"  compared  to  most  Japanese  houses, 
that  were  many  of  them  so  beautiful  that  ordinary  mor 
tals  hardly  dared  to  walk  about  in  them. 

In  telling  the  story  of  Lafcadio  Hearn 's  life  at  Tokyo, 
it  is  well  to  remember  that  he  only  occupied  the  house 
where  his  widow  now  lives  at  Nishi  Okubo  for  two  years 
before  his  death.  The  bulk  of  his  literary  work  was  done  at 
21,  Tomihasa-chio. 

When  I  was  at  Tokyo  I  endeavoured  to  find  the  house, 
but  my  ignorance  of  the  language,  the  "fantastic  riddle 
of  streets,"  that  constitute  a  Tokyo  suburb,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  difficulties  besetting  a  stranger  in  dealing  with 
Japanese  jinrikisha  men,  obliged  me  at  last  to  abandon 
the  quest  as  hopeless.  I  did  not  even  succeed  in  tracing 
the  proprietor,  a  sa&e-brewer,  who  had  owned  eight  hun 
dred  Japanese  houses  in  the  neighbourhood,  or  in  locating 
the  old  Buddhist  temple  of  Kobduera,  where  Hearn  spent 
so  much  of  his  time,  wandering  in  the  twilight  of  the  great 
trees,  dreaming  out  of  space,  out  of  time. 

261 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

The  suburb  of  Ushigome  is  situated  at  some  distance 
from  the  university.  One  hour  daily  to  go,  and  one  to 
return  by  jinrikisha.  But  Hearn  had  one  joy;  he  was 
able  to  congratulate  himself  on  the  absence  of  visitors. 
Any  one  who  endeavoured  to  invade  the  solitude  of  his 
suburban  abode  must  have  '  *  webbed  feet  and  been  able  to 
croak  and  spawn!" 

Hearn 's  description  of  Tokyo  might  be  placed  as  a 
pendant  to  his  celebrated  description  of  New  York  City. 
To  any  one  who  has  visited  the  Japanese  metropolis  during 
the  last  five  years,  it  is  most  vividly  realistic — the  size 
of  the  place,  stretching  over  miles  of  country;  here  the 
quarter  of  the  foreign  embassies,  looking  like  a  well- 
painted  American  suburb — near  by  an  estate  with  quaint 
Chinese  gates  several  centuries  old ;  a  little  farther,  square 
miles  of  indescribable  squalor ;  then  miles  of  military 
parade-ground  trampled  into  a  waste  of  dust,  and  bounded 
by  hideous  barracks;  then  a  great  park  full  of  weird 
beauty,  the  shadows  all  black  as  ink;  then  square  miles 
of  streets  of  shops,  which  burn  down  once  a  year;  then 
more  squalor;  then  rice-fields  and  bamboo-groves;  then 
more  streets.  Gigantic  reservoirs  With  no  water  in  them, 
great  sewer  pipes  without  any  sanitation.  .  .  .  To 
think  of  art,  or  time,  or  eternity,  he  said,  in  the  dead  waste 
and  muddle  of  this  mess,  was  difficult.  But  Setsu  was 
happy — like  a  bird  making  its  nest,  she  was  fixing  up  her 
new  home,  and  had  not  yet  had  time  to  notice  what  ugly 
weather  it  was. 

In  spite  of  grumbling  and  complaints  about  his  sur 
roundings  at  Tokyo,  there  were  redeeming  features  that 
rendered  the  position  comparatively  tolerable.  Some  of 
his  old  pupils  from  Izumo  were  now  students  at  the  Im 
perial  University;  they  were  delighted  to  welcome  their 
old  professor,  seeking  help  and  sympathy  as  in  days  gone 
by.  Knowing  Hearn 's  irritable  and  sensitive  disposition, 

262 


TOKYO 

the  affection  and  respect  entertained  for  him  by  his  pupils 
at  the  various  colleges  in  which  he  taught,  and  the  manner 
in  which  he  was  given  his  own  way  and  his  authority  up 
held,  even  when  at  variance  with  the  directors,  speaks  well 
both  for  him  and  his  employers. 

His  work,  too,  was  congenial.  He  threw  himself  into 
the  preparation  and  delivery  of  his  lectures  heart  and 
soul.  To  take  a  number  of  orientals,  and  endeavour  to 
initiate  them  in  the  modes  of  thought  and  feeling  of  a 
people  inhabiting  a  mental  and  moral  atmosphere  as  far 
apart  as  if  England  and  Japan  were  on  different  planets, 
might  well  seem  an  impossible  task. 

In  summing  up  the  valuable  work  which  Hearn  ac 
complished  in  his  interpretation  of  the  "West  to  the  East, 
these  lectures,  delivered  while  professor  of  English  litera 
ture  at  Kumamoto  and  Tokyo,  must  not  be  forgotten. 
At  the  end  of  her  two  delightful  volumes  of  Hearn 's 
"Life  and  Letters,"  Mrs.  Wetmore  gives  us  one  of  them, 
delivered  at  Tokyo  University,  taken  down  at  the  time 
by  T.  Ochiai,  one  of  his  students.  Another  is  given  by 
Tone  Noguchi  in  his  book  on  "Hearn  in  Japan."  They 
are  fair  examples  of  the  manner  in  which  Hearn  spoke,  not 
to  their  intellects,  but  to  their  emotions.  His  theory  was 
that  beneath  the  surface  the  hearts  of  all  nationalities 
are  alike.  An  emotional  appeal,  therefore,  was  more  likely 
to  be  understood  than  a  mechanical  explanation  of 
technique  and  style. 

The  description  of  the  intrigue  and  officialism,  the  per 
petual  panic  in  which  the  foreign  professors  at  the  uni 
versity  lived,  given  by  Hearn  in  a  letter  to  Ellwood 
Hendrik,  is  extremely  funny.  Earthquakes  were  the  order 
of  the  day.  Nothing  but  the  throne  was  fixed.  In  the  Ori 
ent,  where  intrigue  has  been  cultivated  as  an  art  for  ages, 
the  result  of  the  adoption  of  constitutional  government, 
by  a  race  accustomed  to  autocracy  and  caste,  caused  disloy- 

263 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

alty  and  place-hunting  to  spead  in  new  form,  through  every 
condition  of  society,  and  almost  into  every  household. 
Nothing,  he  said,  was  ever  stable  in  Japan.  The  whole 
official  world  was  influenced  by  under-currents  of  all  sorts, 
as  full  of  changes  as  a  sea  off  a  coast  of  tides,  the  side- 
currents  penetrating  everywhere,  swirling  round  the  writ 
ing-stool  of  the  smallest  clerk,  whose  pen  trembled  with 
fear  for  his  wife 's  and  babies '  rice.  .  .  .  ' '  If  a  man  made 
an  observation  about  facts,  there  was  instantly  a  scatter 
ing  away  from  that  man  as  from  dynamite.  By  common 
consent  he  was  isolated  for  weeks.  Gradually  he  would 
collect  a  group  of  his  own,  but  presently  somebody  in 
another  part  would  talk  about  things  as  they  ought  to 
be, — bang,  fizz,  chaos  and  confusion.  The  man  was  dan 
gerous,  an  intriguer,  etc.,  etc.  Being  good  or  clever,  or 
generous  or  popular,  or  the  best  man  for  the  place, 
counted  for  nothing.  .  .  .  And  I  am  as  a  flea  in  a 
wash-bowl. ' ' 

The  ordinary  functions  and  ceremonials  connected  with 
his  professorship  were  a  burden  that  worried  and  galled  a 
nature  like  Hearn's. 

Every  week  he  was  obliged  to  decline  almost  nightly 
invitations  to  dinner.  He  gives  a  sketch  of  the  ordinary 
obligations  laid  upon  a  university  professor:  fourteen  lec 
tures  a  week,  a  hundred  official  banquets  a  year,  sixty 
private  society  dinners,  and  thirty  to  fifty  invitations  to 
charitable,  musical,  uncharitable  and  non-musical  colonial 
gatherings,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

No  was  said  to  everything,  softly;  but  if  he  had  ac 
cepted,  how  could  he  exist,  breathe,  even  have  time  to 
think,  much  less  write  books  ?  At  first  the  professors  were 
expected  to  appear  in  a  uniform  of  scarlet  and  gold  at 
official  functions.  The  professors  were  restive  under  the 
idea  of  gold — luckily  for  themselves. 

He  gives  a  description  of  a  ceremonious  visit  paid  by 

264 


TOKYO 

the  Emperor  to  the  university;  he  was  expected  to  put 
on  a  frock-coat,  and  headgear  that  inspired  the  Moham 
medan  curse,  "May  God  put  a  Hat  on  you!"  All  the 
professors  were  obliged  to  stand  out  in  the  sleet  and  snow 
— no  overcoats  allowed,  though  it  was  horribly  cold.  They 
were  twice  actually  permitted  to  bow  down  before  His 
Majesty.  Most  of  them  got  cold,  but  nothing  more  for 
the  nonce.  "Lowell  discovered  one  delicious  thing  in  the 
Far  East — 'The  Gate  of  everlasting  Ceremony.'  But  the 
ancient  ceremony  was  beautiful.  Swallow-tails  and  plugs 
are  not  beautiful.  My  little  wife  tells  me:  *  Don't  talk 
like  that:  even  if  a  robber  were  listening  to  you  upon 
the  roof  of  the  house,  he  would  get  angry.'  So  I  am  only 
saying  to  you:  'I  don't  see  that  I  should  be  obliged  to 
take  cold,  merely  for  the  privilege  of  bowing  to  H.  M. '  Of 
course  this  is  half -jest,  half -earnest.  There  is  a  reason  for 
things — for  anything  except — a  plug  hat.  .  .  ." 

As  nearly  as  we  can  make  out,  his  friend,  Nishida  Sen- 
taro,  died  during  the  course  of  this  winter.  He  was  an 
irreparable  loss  to  Hearn,  representing,  as  he  did,  all  that 
constituted  his  most  delightful  memories  of  Japan.  In 
his  last  book,  "Japan,  an  Interpretation,"  he  alludes  to 
him  as  the  best  and  dearest  friend  he  had  in  the  country, 
who  had  told  him  a  little  while  before  his  death:  "When 
in  four  or  five  years'  further  residence  you  find  that  you 
cannot  understand  the  Japanese  at  all,  then  you  may  boast 
of  beginning  to  know  something  about  them." 

With  none  of  the  professors  at  the  university  at  Tokyo 
does  Hearn  ever  seem  to  have  formed  ties  of  intimacy. 
Curiously  enough,  the  professor  of  French  literature,  a 
Jesuit  priest,  was  to  him  the  most  sympathetic.  Hearn 
in  some  things  was  a  conservative,  in  others  a  radical. 
During  the  Boer  War  he  took  up  the  cause  of  the  Dutch 
against  the  English,  only  because  he  inaccurately  imag- 

265 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ined  the  Boers  to  have  been  the  original  owners  of  Dutch 
South  Africa.  Protestant  missionaries  he  detested,  look 
ing  upon  them  as  iconoclasts,  destroyers  of  the  beautiful 
ancient  art,  which  had  been  brought  to  Japan  by  Buddhism. 
The  Jesuits,  on  the  other  hand,  favoured  the  preservation 
of  ancient  feudalism  and  ecclesiasticism.  Hearn 's  former 
prejudices,  therefore,  on  the  subject  of  Roman  Cathol 
icism  were  considerably  mitigated  during  his  residence  in 
Japan.  He  describes  his  landlord,  the  old  sake-brewer, 
coming  to  definitely  arrange  the  terms  of  the  lease  of  the 
house.  When  he  caught  sight  of  Kazuo  he  said,  "You 
are  too  pretty, — you  ought  to  have  been  a  girl."  .  .  . 
"That  set  me  thinking,"  Hearn  adds,  "if  Kazuo  feels  like 
his  father  about  pretty  girls, — what  shall  I  do  with  him? 
Marry  him  at  seventeen  or  nineteen?  Or  send  him  to 
grim  and  ferocious  Puritans  that  he  may  be  taught  the 
Way  of  the  Lord?  I  am  now  beginning  to  think  that 
really  much  of  ecclesiastical  education  (bad  and  cruel 
as  I  used  to  imagine  it)  is  founded  upon  the  best  experi 
ence  of  man  under  civilisation;  and  I  understand  lots  of 
things  which  I  used  to  think  superstitious  bosh,  and  now 
think  solid  wisdom. ' ' 

He  and  the  Jesuit  professor  of  French  got  into  a  reli 
gious  discussion  one  day,  and  Hearn  found  him  charming. 
Of  course  he  looked  upon  Hearn  as  a  heretic,  and  consid 
ered  all  philosophy  of  the  nineteenth  century  false, — 
everything,  indeed,  accomplished  by  free  thought  and 
Protestantism,  folly,  leading  to  ruin.  But  he  and  Hearn 
had  sympathies  in  common,  contempt  of  conventional  re 
ligion,  scorn  of  missionaries,  and  recognition  of  the  nat 
urally  religious  character  of  the  Japanese. 

After  Nishida  Sentaro's  death,  the  only  Japanese  friend 
ship  that  Hearn  retained  was  that  for  Amenomori  Nobush- 
ige,  to  whom  "Kokoro"  was  dedicated: — 

266 


TOKYO 

"TO  MY  FRIEND 

AMENOMORI  NOBUSHIGE 

POET,  SCHOLAR  AND  PATRIOT. ' ' 

We  first  find  Amenomori 's  name  mentioned  in  Hearn's 
letters  the  year  he  left  Kumamoto  for  Kobe.  When  we 
were  at  Tokyo  we  were  told  that  Amenomori 's  widow,  who 
lives  there,  possesses  a  voluminous  correspondence  that 
passed  between  her  husband  and  Hearn,  principally  on  the 
subject  of  Buddhism.  Some  day  I  imagine  it  will  be  pub 
lished.  To  Amenomori,  as  to  others,  Hearn  poured  out 
his  despair  at  the  uncongenial  surroundings  of  Tokyo;  he 
wanted  new  experiences,  and  Tokyo  was  not  the  place  for 
them.  "Perhaps  the  power  to  feel  a  thrill  dies  with  the 
approach  of  a  man's  fiftieth  year — perhaps  the  only  land 
to  find  the  new  sensation  is  in  the  Past, — floats  blue  peaked 
under  some  beautiful  dead  sun  in  the  'tropic  clime  of 
youth. '  Must  I  die  and  be  born  again,  to  feel  the  charm 
of  the  Far  East — or  will  Amenomori  Nobushige  discover 
for  me  some  unfamiliar  blossom  growing  beside  the  foun 
tain  of  Immortality?  Alas!  I  don't  know.  .  .  ." 

Amenomori  seems  to  have  had  a  real  affection  for  the 
eccentric  little  genius,  and  to  have  philosophically  accepted 
his  fits  of  temper  and  apparently  unaccountable  vagaries. 
In  the  company  of  all  Japanese,  however,  even  the  most 
highly  cultivated,  Hearn  declared  that  all  occidentals  felt 
unhappy  after  an  hour's  communion.  When  the  first 
charm  of  formality  is  over,  the  Japanese  suddenly  drifts 
away  into  his  own  world,  as  far  from  this  one  as  the  star 
Rephan. 

Mitchell  McDonald,  paymaster  of  the  United  States 
navy,  stationed  at  Yokohama,  was  apparently  the  only 
person  for  whom  Hearn  cherished  a  warm  human  senti 
ment  at  this  time  beyond  his  immediate  family  circle. 

In  Miss  Bisland's  account  of  her  "Flying  Trip  Around 

267 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  World"  she  mentions  McDonald  of  Yokohama — in 
brown  boots  and  corduroys — as  escorting  her  to  various 
places  of  interest  during  her  short  stay  in  Japan.  It  was 
apparently  through  her  intervention  that  the  introduction 
of  Lafcadio  Hearn  was  effected,  and  must  have  taken 
place  almost  immediately  on  Hearn 's  arrival  in  Japan, 
for  he  mentions  McDonald  in  one  of  his  first  letters  to  Ell- 
wood  Hendrik,  and  "  Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar  Japan "  was 
dedicated  to  him  in  conjunction  with  Chamberlain. 

" After  all  I  am  rather  a  lucky  fellow,"  he  writes  to 
McDonald,  "a  most  peculiarly  lucky  fellow,  principally 
owing  to  the  note  written  by  a  certain  sweet  young  lady, 
whose  portrait  now  looks  down  on  me  from  the  ceiling  of 
No.  21,  Tomihasa-chio." 

"Writing  from  Tokyo  to  Mrs.  Wetmore,  in  January  >  1900, 
he  tells  her  that  above  the  table  was  a  portrait  of  a  young 
American  officer  in  uniform, — a  very  dear  picture.  Many 
a  time,  Hearn  said,  they  had  sat  up  till  midnight,  talking 
about  things. 

The  conversation  at  these  dinners,  eaten  overlooking  the 
stretch  of  Yokohama  Harbour,  with  the  sound  of  the  waves 
lapping  on  the  harbour  wall  beneath,  and  the  ships  and 
boats  passing  to  and  fro  beyond,  never  seems  to  have  been 
about  literary  matters,  which  perhaps  accounts  for  the 
friendship  between  the  two  lasting  so  long.  ' '  Like  Antaeus 
I  feel  always  so  much  more  of  a  man,  after  a  little  contact 
with  your  reality,  not  so  much  of  a  literary  man  however." 

The  salt  spray  that  Hearn  loved  so  well  seemed  to  cling 
to  McDonald,  the  breeziness  of  a  sailor's  yarning  ran 
through  their  after-dinner  talks,  the  adventures  of  naval 
life  at  sea,  and  at  the  ports  where  McDonald  had  touched 
during  his  service.  He  was  always  urging  McDonald  to 
give  him  material  for  stories,  studies  of  the  life  of  the 
"open  ports" — only  real  facts — not  names  or  dates — real 
facts  of  beauty,  or  pathos,  or  tragedy.  He  felt  that  all  the 

268 


TOKYO 

life  of  the  open  ports  is  not  commonplace ;  there  were  hero 
isms  and  romances  in  it;  and  there  was  really  nothing  in 
this  world  as  wonderful  as  life  itself.  All  real  life  was  a 
marvel,  but  in  Japan  a  marvel  that  was  hidden  as  much  as 
possible — "especially  hidden  from  dangerous  chatterers 
like  Lafcadio  Hearn." 

If  he  could  get  together  a  book  of  short  stories — six 
would  be  enough — he  would  make  a  dedication  of  it  to  M. 
McD.  as  prettily  as  he  could. 

Under  the  soothing  influence  of  a  good  cigar,  Hearn 
would  even  take  his  friend  into  his  confidence  about  many 
incidents  in  his  own  past  life — that  past  life  which  gener 
ally  was  jealously  guarded  from  the  outside  world.  He 
tells  McDonald  the  pleasure  it  gives  him,  his  saying  that  he 
resembles  his  father,  but  "I  have  more  smallness  in  me 
than  you  can  suspect.  How  could  it  be  otherwise!  If  a 
man  lives  like  a  rat  for  twenty  or  twenty-five  years  he 
must  have  acquired  something  of  the  disposition  peculiar 
to  house  rodents,  mustn't  he?" 

The  communion  between  these  two  was  more  like  that, 
between  some  popular,  athletic,  sixth-form  boy  at  Eton, 
whose  softer  side  had  been  touched  by  the  forlornness  of  a 
shy,  sickly,  bullied  minor,  than  that  between  two  middle- 
aged  men,  one  representing  the  United  States  in  an  official 
capacity,  the  other  one  of  the  most  famous  writers  of  the 
day.  The  first  letter  relates  to  a  visit  that  McDonald  ap 
parently  paid  to  Ushigome,  an  audacious  proceeding  that 
few  ventured  upon. 

Hearn  expressed  his  appreciation  of  McDonald's  good 
nature  in  coming  to  his  miserable  little  shanty,  over  a 
muddy  chaos  of  street — the  charming  way  in  which  he 
accepted  the  horrid  attempt  at  entertainment,  and  his 
interest  and  sympathy  in  Hearn 's  affairs. 

In  the  house  at  Nishi  Okubo  mementoes  are  still  pre 
served  of  McDonald's  visits.  A  rocking-chair, — rare  piece 

269 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

of  furniture  in  a  Japanese  establishment — a  spirit  lamp, 
and  an  American  cigar-ash  holder. 

McDonald  apparently  saw,  as  Dr.  Papellier  had  seen  at 
Kobe,  that  Hearn  was  killing  himself  by  his  ascetic  Japa 
nese  mode  of  life.  Raw  fish  and  lotus  roots  were  not  food 
suited  for  the  heavy  brain  work  Hearn  was  doing,  besides 
his  professional  duties  at  the  university.  McDonald,  there 
fore,  insisted  on  being  allowed  to  send  him  wine  and  deli 
cacies  of  all  sorts. 

"With  reference  to  the  'best/  "  Hearn  writes,  "you 
are  a  dreadful  man!  How  could  you  think  that  I  have 
got  even  half  way  to  the  bottom  ?  I  have  only  drunk  three 
bottles  yet,  but  that  is  a  shameful l  only. '  ' 

They  seemed  to  have  exchanged  books  and  discussed 
things,  and  laughed  and  made  jokes  school-boy  fashion. 
Hearn  talks  of  their  sprees,  their  dinners,  their  tiffins, 
1 ' irresistibles, "  and  alludes  to  "blue  ghost "  and  "blue 
soul" — names  given  to  some  potation  partaken  of  at  the 
club  or  at  the  hotel.  It  shows  McDonald's  powers  of  per 
suasion  that  Hearn  was  tempted  out  of  his  shell  at  UshiT 
gome  to  pass  two  or  three  days  at  Yokohama.  Sunlit 
hours  were  these  in  the  exile's  life.  Three  days  passed 
•with  his  friend  at  Yokohama  were,  Hearn  declares,  the 
most  pleasurable  in  a  pilgrimage  of  forty-seven  years. 

"What  a  glorious  day  we  did  have!"  he  says  again. 
"Wonder  if  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  make  a  thumb-nail 
literary  study  thereof, — with  philosophical  reflections. 
The  Naval  Officer,  the  Buddhist  Philosopher  (Amenomori), 
and  the  wandering  Evolutionist.  The  impression  is  alto 
gether  too  sunny  and  happy  and  queer,  to  be  forever  lost 
to  the  world.  I  must  think  it  up  some  day.  .  .  ." 
There  is  something  pathetic  in  these  healthy-minded, 
healthy-bodied  men  petting  and  making  much  of  the  little 
genius,  half  in  pity,  half  in  admiration,  recognising  in  an 
indefinite  way  that  some  divine  attribute  was  his. 

270 


TOKYO 

McDonald,  in  his  enthusiastic  sailor  fashion,  used  to 
express  his  belief  in  Hearn's  genius,  telling  him  that  he 
was  a  greater  writer  than  Loti.  Being  a  practical  person, 
he  was  apparently  continually  endeavouring  to  try  and 
induce  his  little  friend  to  take  a  monetary  view  of  his  in 
tellectual  capacities.  Ilearn  tells  him  that  he  understands 
why  he  wished  him  to  write  fiction — he  wanted  him  to 
make  some  profit  out  of  his  pen,  and  he  knew  that  *  *  fiction ' ' 
was  about  the  only  stuff  that  really  paid.  Then  he  sets 
forth  the  reasons  why  men  like  himself  didn't  write  more 
fiction.  First  of  all,  he  had  little  knowledge  of  life,  and 
by  that  very  want  of  knowledge  was  debarred  from  mix 
ing  with  the  life  which  alone  can  furnish  the  material. 
They  can  divine,  but  must  have  some  chances  to  do  that, 
for  society  everywhere  suspects  them.  Men  like  Kipling 
belong  to  the  great  Life  Struggle,  and  the  world  believes 
them  and  worships  them;  "but  Dreamers  that  talk  about 
pre-existence,  and  who  think  differently  from  common- 
sense  folk,  are  quite  outside  of  social  existence." 

Then  his  old  dream  of  being  able  to  travel  was  again 
adverted  to,  or  even  an  independence  that  would  liberate 
him  from  slavery  to  officialdom — but  he  had  too  many  little 
butterfly  lives  to  love  and  take  care  of.  His  dream  of 
even  getting  to  Europe  for  a  time  to  put  his  boy  to  college 
there  must  remain  merely  a  possibility. 

The  only  interruption  to  the  harmony  of  the  communion 
between  the  two  friends  was  Hearn's  dislike  of  meeting 
the  inquisitive  occidental  tourist;  this  dislike  attained  at 
last  the  proportions  of  an  obsession,  and  the  more  he  with 
drew  and  shut  himself  up,  the  more  did  legendary  tales 
circle  round  him,  and  the  more  determined  were  outsiders 
to  get  behind  the  veil  that  he  interposed  between  himself 
and  them. 

He  went  in  and  out  the  back  way  so  as  to  avoid  the 
risk  of  being  seen  from  afar  off.  Thursday  last,  he  tells 

271 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

McDonald,  three  enemies  dug  at  his  hole,  but  he  zigzagged 
away  from  them. 

He  adverts,  too,  to  a  woman,  who  had  evidently  never 
seen  or  known  him,  who  spelt  his  name  Lefcardio,  and 
pestered  him  with  letters.  "Wish  you  would  point  out  to 
her  somebody  who  looks  small  and  queer,  and  tell  her  '  that 
is  Mr.  Hearn,  he  is  waiting  to  see  you. '  ' ' 

The  curiosity  animating  these  people,  he  declared,  was 
simply  the  kind  of  curiosity  that  impelled  them  to  look  at 
strange  animals — six-legged  calves,  for  instance.  His 
friends,  he  declared,  were  as  dangerous,  if  not  more  dan 
gerous,  than  his  enemies,  for  these  latter,  with  infinite 
subtlety,  kept  him  out  of  places  where  he  hated  to  go,  and 
told  stories  of  him  to  people  to  whom  it  would  be  vanity 
and  vexation  to  meet,  and  their  unconscious  aid  helped 
him  so  that  he  almost  loved  them. 

But  his  friends! — they  were  the  real  destroyers,  they 
praised  his  work,  believed  in  it,  and  yet,  not  knowing  what 
it  cost,  would  break  the  wings  and  scatter  the  feather-dust, 
even  as  a  child  caressing  a  butterfly.  Converse  and  sym 
pathy  might  be  precious  things  to  others,  but  to  him 
they  were  deadly,  for  they  broke  up  habits  of  industry, 
and  caused  the  sin  of  disobedience  to  the  Holy  Ghost — 
"against  whom  sin  shall  not  be  forgiven, — either  in  this 
life,  or  in  the  life  to  come. ' ' 

Sometimes  he  wished,  he  said,  that  he  were  lost  upon 
the  mountains,  or  cast  away  upon  a  rock,  rather  than  in 
the  terrible  city  of  Tokyo.  "Yet  here  I  am,  smoking  a 
divine  cigar — out  of  my  friend's  gift-box — and  brutally 
telling  him  that  he  is  killing  my  literary  soul,  or  souls. 
Am  I  right  or  wrong?  I  feel  like  kicking  myself.  And 
yet  I  feel  that  I  ought  never  again  in  this  world  to  visit  the 
Grand  Hotel."  In  spite  of  these  protestations,  however, 
McDonald  would  lure  him  to  come  down  again  and  again 
to  Yokohama,  and  again  and  again  make  him  smoke  good 

272 


TOKYO 

cigars,  drink  good  wine,  and  eat  nourishing  food.  Once, 
when  the  little  man  had,  with  characteristic  carelessness, 
forgotten  to  bring  a  great-coat,  McDonald  wrapped  him 
up  in  his  own  to  send  him  home — an  incident  which  Hearn 
declared  he  would  remember  for  its  warmth  of  friendship 
until  he  died.  Another  time,  when  he  complained  of 
toothache,  McDonald  got  the  navy  doctor  to  remove,  as  he 
thought,  the  primary  cause.  Hearn  gives  a  humorous  ac 
count  of  this  incident.  He  found  that  when  he  returned 
home  the  wrong  one  had  been  pulled.  Its  character,  he 
said,  had  been  modest  and  shrinking,  the  other  one,  on  the 
contrary,  had  been  Mount  Vesuvius,  the  last  great  Javanese 
earthquake,  the  tidal  wave  of  '96,  and  the  seventh  chamber 
of  the  Inferno,  all  in  mathematical  combination. 

It  was  magnanimous  of  Hearn  to  dedicate  * '  G  leanings  in 
Buddha  Fields"  to  the  doctor  after  this  incident.  Mc 
Donald  and  his  genial  surroundings  seemed  to  have  thor 
oughly  understood  how  to  manage  the  little  man.  When 
he  became  irritable  and  unreasonable  they  apparently  took 
not  the  least  notice,  and  good-naturedly  wheedled  him 
back  into  a  good  temper  again — treated  him,  in  fact,  as 
Mr.  Watkin  had  treated  him  during  his  attacks  of  temper 
at  Cincinnati. 

So,  without  any  real  break,  this  friendship,  as  well  as 
Mrs.  Wetmore's,  lasted  until  the  end.  Since  Hearn 's 
death,  Captain  McDonald  has  loyally  stood  by  his  widow 
and  children,  taking  upon  himself  the  self-imposed  duties 
of  executor,  collecting  together  scattered  MS.,  and  arrang 
ing  the  sale  of  the  copyright  of  his  books  in  the  United 
States. 


273 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
USHIGOME 

"Every  one  has  an  inner  life  of  his  own, — which  no  other  eye  can 
see,  and  the  great  secrets  of  which  are  never  revealed,  although  occa 
sionally,  when  we  create  something  beautiful,  we  betray  a  faint 
glimpse  of  it — sudden  and  brief,  as  of  a  door  opening  and  shutting 
in  the  night.  .  .  .  Are  we  not  all  Dopplegangers  ? — and  is  not 
the  invisible  the  only  life  we  really  enjoy?" 

IN  spite  of  his  railings  against  Tokyo,  Hearn  was  prob 
ably  happier  at  Ushigome  and  Nishi  Okubo  than  he  had 
ever  been  during  his  other  sojournings  in  Japan,  excepting 
always  the  enchanted  year  at  Matsue. 

To  paraphrase  George  Barrow,  there  was  day  and  night, 
both  sweet  things,  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  all  sweet  things, 
likewise  there  was  the  wind  that  rustled  through  the  bam 
boo-grove. 

Hearn  had  all  the  oriental's  scorn  of  comfort:  so  long 
as  he  could  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  dreaming  and  writ 
ing,  his  pipe  and  Webster's  Dictionary  within  reach,  he 
asked  for  little  else. 

This  master  of  impressionist  prose  confessed — in  his  dif 
fident  and  humble  manner  where  his  art  was  concerned — 
that  now  for  the  first  time  he  began  to  write  English  with 
ease.  Roget's  "Thesaurus,"  and  Skeat's  "Etymological 
Dictionary"  were  definitely  discarded.  He  recognised, 
also,  that  he  had  caught  the  ear  of  the  public,  not  only  in 
America  but  in  England. 

The  manner  of  Hearn 's  life  at  this  time  entirely  con 
tradicts  his  pessimistic  statements,  that  "the  Holy  Ghost 
had  deserted  him  .  .  .  ,"  that  "he  had  lost  his  pen  of 

274 


USHIGOME 

fire  .  .  .  ,"  and  that  he  was  "like  a  caged  cicada  that 
could  not  sing. ' ' 

No  author  who  writes  and  publishes  can  ever  really,  in 
his  heart  of  hearts,  be  a  pessimist.  There  is  no  conviction 
so  optimistic  as  thinking  that  your  thoughts  and  opinions 
are  worth  setting  forth  for  the  benefit  of  the  public. 

Though  he  had  not  much  sympathy  with  Japanese  and 
foreign  professors,  and  clashed  now  and  then  with  the 
officials  at  the  Imperial  University,  at  home  he  enjoyed  the 
most  complete  tranquillity;  all  is  noiseless  in  a  Japanese 
house,  not  a  footfall  audible  on  the  soft  matting,  every 
thing  was  favourable  to  absorption  in  his  work. 

He  was  an  early  riser,  always  at  his  desk  by  six  o'clock, 
pipe  in  one  hand  and  pen  in  the  other.  "Even  when  in 
bed  with  a  cold,  or  not  feeling  well,"  his  wife  tells  us, 
1 '  it  was  always,  write,  write,  write. ' '  Sometimes  she  found 
him  in  the  library,,  jumping  for  joy  because  he  had  a  new 
idea.  She  would  ask  him,  "Did  you  finish  your  last 
story?"  Sometimes  he  would  answer,  "That  story  has  to 
wait  for  some  time.  Perhaps  a  month — perhaps  a  year — 
perhaps  five  years ! ' '  He  kept  one  story  in  his  drawer  for 
seven  long  years  before  it  was  finished.  I  believe  that 
many  stories  of  his  were  left  unfinished  in  his  drawer,  or, 
at  least,  in  the  drawer  of  his  mind  when  he  passed  away. 

Though  perturbed  every  now  and  then  by  the  little 
man's  fits  of  excitement  and  temper — phases  of  mind  un 
known  to  her  own  countrymen — and  though  she  shrink- 
ingly  recognised  the  neighbours'  suspicion  that  he  was 
slightly  crazy,  Setsu  Koizumi  nourished  a  deep  affection 
for  her  foreign  husband,  and  Hearn,  on  the  other  hand, 
though  intellectually  an  abyss  might  yawn  between  them, 
'had  the  greatest  respect  for  his  wife 's  common-sense. 

"I  have  learnt  to  be  guided  by  K.'s  mamma,"  he  says, 
writing  eight  years  after  his  marriage — "indeed,  no  occi 
dental-born  could  manage  a  purely  Japanese  household, 

275 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

or  direct  Japanese  according  to  his  own  light,  things  are 
so  opposite,  so  eccentric,  so  provoking  at  times, — so  impos 
sible  to  understand.  .  .  .  By  learning  to  abstain  from 
meddling,  I  have  been  able  to  keep  my  servants  from  the 
beginning,  and  have  learned  to  prize  some  of  them  at  their 
weight  in  gold. ' ' 

Quaint  and  pathetic  sidelights  are  cast  upon  this  strange 
Anglo- Japanese  union  by  Mrs.  Hearn's  recently-published 
"Reminiscences"  and  by  various  letters  of  his  to  friends. 
"I  was  reproached  very  justly  on  reaching  home  last 
night,"  Lafcadio  tells  Mitchell  McDonald.  "  'But  you 
did  not  bring  your  American  friend's  picture?  .  .  . 
Forgot  to  put  it  into  the  valise  ?  .  .  .  Oh !  but  you  are 
queer — always,  always  dreaming !  And  don 't  you  feel  just 
a  little  bit  ashamed?'  : 

On  another  occasion,  the  little  woman,  seeing  by  the 
expression  of  his  face  that  he  was  in  a  bad  temper  when 
writing  to  his  publisher,  got  possession  of  the  letter  and 
"posted  it  in  a  drawer,"  asking  him  next  day  whether  he 
would  not  like  to  withhold  some  of  the  correspondence. 
He  acted  on  the  hint  thus  wisely  given,  and  the  letter 
"was  never  sent." 

She  describes  him  blowing  for  fun  into  a  conch  shell 
he  had  bought  one  day  at  Enoshima,  delighting,  like  a 
mischievous  boy,  in  the  billowy  sound  that  filled  the  room ; 
or  holding  it  to  his  ear  to  "listen  to  the  murmur  of  the 
august  abodes  from  whence  it  came."  Happy  in  his  gar 
den  and  simple  things — "the  poet's  home  is  to  him  the 
whole  world,"  as  the  Japanese  poem  says — we  see  him 
talking,  laughing,  and  singing  at  meals.  "He  had  two 
kinds  of  laughter,"  his  wife  says,  "one  being  a  womanish 
sort  of  laughter,  soft  and  deep ;  the  other  joyous  and  open- 
hearted,  a  catching  sort  of  laughter,  as  if  all  trouble  were 
forgotten,  and  when  he  laughed  the  whole  household 
laughed,  too." 

276 


USHIGOME 

His  multiplying  family  was  growing  up  healthy  and 
intelligent.  He  was  kept  in  touch  with  youth  and  vigorous 
life,  through  intercourse  with  them  and  his  pupils  at  the 
university.  The  account  given  us  of  his  merrymaking 
with  his  children  puts  a  very  different  aspect  on  Hearn's 
nature  and  outlook  on  life.  However  crabbed  and  re 
served  his  attitude  towards  the  outside  world  might  be, 
at  home  with  his  children  he  was  the  cheeriest  of  com 
rades,  expansive  and  affectionate.  Sometimes  he  would 
play  "onigokko,"  or  devil-catching  play  (hide-and-seek), 
with  them  in  the  garden.  ' '  Though  no  adept  in  the  Japa 
nese  language,  he  succeeded  in  learning  the  words  of  sev 
eral  children's  songs,  the  Tokyo  Sunset  Song,  for  in 
stance — 

"Yu-yake! 
Ko-yake ! 
Ashita  wa  tenki  ni  nare." 

"Evening-burning ! 

Little-burning ! 
Weather,  be  fair  to-morrow!" 

or  the  Song  of  "Urashima  Taro." 

He  was  much  given  to  drawing,  making  pen-and-ink 
sketches  illustrating  quotations  from  English  poetry  for 
his  eldest  boy,  Kazuo.  Some  of  these  which  have  re 
cently  been  published  are  quite  suggestively  charming,  dis 
tinguished  by  that  quaint  sadness  which  runs  through  all 
his  work.  In  one,  illustrative  of  Kingsley's  "Three  Fish 
ers,"  though  the  lighthouse  has  a  slight  slant  to  leeward, 
the  sea  and  clouds  give  an  effect  of  storm  and  impending 
disaster  which  is  wonderful. 

He  was  too  near-sighted  to  be  allowed  to  walk  alone  in 
the  bustling,  crowded  streets  of  Tokyo ;  he  one  day,  indeed, 
sprained  his  ankle  severely,  stumbling  over  a  heap  of 
stones  and  earth  that  he  did  not  see.  But  in  Kazuo 's  and 

277 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

his  wife's  company,  he  explored  every  corner  of  the  dis 
trict  where  he  lived.  He  very  seldom  spoke,  she  tells  us, 
as  he  walked  with  bent  head,  and  they  followed  silently 
so  as  not  to  disturb  his  meditations.  There  was  not  a  tem 
ple  unknown  to  him  in  Zoshigaya,  Ochiai,  and  the  neigh 
bouring  quarters.  He  always  carried  a  little  note-book, 
and  frequently  brought  it  out  to  make  notes  of  what  he 
saw  as  they  passed  along. 

An  ancient  garden  belonging  to  a  temple  near  his  house 
was  a  favourite  resort,  until  one  day  he  found  three  of  the 
cedar  trees  cut  down ;  this  piece  of  vandalism,  for  the  sake 
of  selling  the  timber,  made  him  so  miserable  that  he  refused 
any  longer  to  enter  the  precincts,  and  for  some  time  con 
tented  himself  with  a  stroll  round  the  lake  in  the  univer 
sity  grounds.  One  of  his  students  describes  Hearn's 
slightly  stooping  form,  surmounted  by  a  soft  broad-brimmed 
hat,  pacing  slowly  and  contemplatively  along  the  lake,  or 
sitting  upon  a  stone  on  the  shore,  smoking  his  Japanese 
pipe. 

Though  Hearn  hated  the  ceremonious  functions  con 
nected  with  his  professional  position,  he  was  by  no  means 
averse,  during  the  first  half  of  his  stay  at  Tokyo, — whilst 
his  health  indeed  still  permitted  the  indulgences — to  a 
good  dinner  and  cigar,  in  congenial  company  at  the  club. 
He  was  often  compelled,  at  dinner,  we  were  told,  to  ask 
some  one  at  his  elbow  what  was  in  his  plate;  sometimes  a 
friend  would  make  jestingly  misleading  replies,  to  which 
he  would  cheerfully  respond:  "Very  well,  if  you  can  eat 
it,  so  can  I." 

Professor  Foxwell  describes  dining  and  then  loafing  and 
strolling  and  smoking  with  him.  "It  was  not  so  much  the 
dinner  he  enjoyed,  as  the  twilight  afterwards  in  Ueno 
Park,  the  soft  night  air  romantic  with  fireflies  hovering 
amongst  the  luxurious  foliage.  Our  intercourse,  though 
constant  and  not  to  be  forgotten,  was  nothing  to  describe. 

278 


USHIGOME 

I  think  we  never  argued  or  discussed  the  burning  questions 
that  divided  the  foreign  community  in  Japan.  We  simply 
ate  and  drank  and  smoked,  and  in  fact  behaved  as  'slack 
ers.  '  We  delighted  in  the  air,  the  sunshine,  the  babies,  the 
flowers,  nothing  but  trifles,  things  too  absurd  to  recall." 

Various  cultured  people  in  foreign  circles  in  Tokyo  were 
anxious  enough  to  initiate  friendly  relations  with  the  lit 
erary  man  whose  Japanese  books  were  beginning  to  make 
such  a  stir  in  the  world,  but  Hearn  kept  them  rigidly  at 
a  distance;  indeed,  as  time  went  on  he  became  more  and 
more  averse  to  mixing  with  his  countrymen  and  country 
women  at  Tokyo.  He  imagined  that  they  were  all  inimical 
to  him,  and  that  he  was  the  victim  of  gross  injustice,  and 
organised  conspiracy.  These  prejudiced  ideas  were  really 
the  outcome  of  a  peculiarly  sensitive  brain,  lacking  normal 
mental  balance.  Nothing  but  "Old  Japan"  was  admitted 
inside  his  garden  fence.  A  motley  company!  Well-clean 
ers,  pipe-stem  makers,  ballad-singers,  an  old  fortune-teller 
who  visited  Hearn  every  season. 

We  can  see  him  seated  beside  Hearn  in  his  study,  telling 
his  fortune,  which  he  did  four  times,  until,  as  Hearn  tells 
us,  his  predictions  were  fulfilled  in  such-wise  that  he  be 
came  afraid  of  them.  A  set  of  ebony  blocks,  which  could 
be  so  arranged  as  to  form  any  of  the  Chinese  hexagrams, 
were  his  stock-in-trade,  and  he  always  began  his  divination 
with  an  earnest  prayer  to  the  gods.  In  the  winter  of  1903 
he  was  found  frozen  in  the  snow  on  the  Izumo  hills. 
"Even  the  fortune-teller  knows  not  his  own  fate,"  is  a 
Japanese  saying  quoted  by  Hearn  in  connection  with  the 
incident. 

But  it  was  at  Yaidzu,  a  small  fishing  village  on  the  east 
ern  coast,  where  he  generally  spent  his  summer  vacation 
with  his  two  boys,  for  sea-bathing,  that  he  was  in  his  ele 
ment. 

The  Yaidzu  people  had  the  deepest  affection  and  respect 

O-Q 

^  .  • ' 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

for  him,  and  during  the  summer  vacation  he  liked  to  be 
come  one  of  them,  dressing  as  they  did,  and  living  their 
simple  patriarchal  life.  Indeed,  he  preferred  the  friend 
ship  of  country  barbers,  priests  and  fishermen  far  more 
than  that  of  college  professors. 

As  there  was  no  inn  at  Yaidzu,  Hearn  lodged  at  the 
house  of  Otokichi,  who,  as  well  as  being  a  fisherman,  kept 
a  fish-shop,  and  cooked  every  description  of  fish  in  a  won 
derful  variety  of  ways.  Aided  by  Hearn 's  description,  we 
can  see  Otokichi 's  shop,  its  rows  of  shelves  supporting 
boxes  of  dried  fish,  packages  of  edible  seaweed,  bundles 
of  straw  sandals,  gourds  for  holding  sake,  and  bottles  of 
lemonade,  while  surmounting  all  was  the  Jcamidana — the 
shelf  of  the  gods — with  its  Daruma,  or  household  di 
vinity. 

Many  and  fanciful  were  his  dreams  as  he  loafed  and 
lay  on  the  beach  at  Yaidzu,  sometimes  thinking  of  the  old 
belief,  that  held  some  dim  relation  between  the  dead  and 
the  human  essence  fleeting  in  the  gale — floating  in  the 
mists — shuddering  in  the  leaf — flickering  in  the  light  of 
waters — or  tossed  on  the  desolate  coast  in  a  thunder  of 
surf,  to  whiten  and  writhe  in  the  clatter  of  shingle.  .  .  . 
At  others,  as  when  a  boy  at  school,  lying  looking  at  the 
clouds  passing  across  the  sky,  and  imagining  himself  a 
part  of  the  nature  that  was  living  and  palpitating  round 
him. 

It  is  impossible  in  the  space  at  my  command,  to  examine 
Hearn 's  work  at  Tokyo  in  detail ;  it  consists  of  nine  books. 
The  first  one  published  after  his  appointment  as  professor 
of  English  at  the  university  was  "Gleanings  in  Buddha 
Fields:  Studies  of  Hand  and  Soul  in  the  Far  East." 
Though  it  saw  the  light  at  Tokyo  in  1897,  the  greater  part 
of  it  is  said  to  have  been  written  at  Kobe.  Henceforth  all 
his  Japanese  literary  work  was  but  l '  Gleanings/ '  gathered 
in  the  fields  he  had  ploughed  and  sown  at  Matsue,  Kobe, 

280 


USHIGOME 

Kumamoto  and  Kyoto.  Every  grain  of  impression,  of 
reminiscence,  scientific  and  emotional,  was  dropped  into 
the  literary  mill. 

Amongst  the  essays  comprising  the  volume  entitled 
"Gleanings  in  Buddha  Fields,"  there  is  nothing  particu 
larly  arresting.  His  chapter  on  "Nirvana"  is  hackneyed 
and  unsubstantial,  ending  with  the  vaporous  statement  that 
"the  only  reality  is  One;  all  that  we  have  taken  for  sub 
stance  is  only  shadow ;  the  physical  is  the  unreal :  and  the 
outer-man  is  the  ghost." 

In  dealing  with  Hearn's  genius  we  have  to  accept  fre 
quent  contradictions  and  changes  of  statement.  His  de 
ductions  need  classifying  arid  substantiating,  he  often  gen 
eralises  from  insufficient  premises,  and  over-emphasises  the 
impression  of  the  moment  at  the  expense  of  accuracy. 

In  his  article  on  the  "Eternal  Feminine,"  he  endeav 
ours  to  prove  that  the  Japanese  man  is  incapable  of  love, 
as  we  understand  it  in  the  West.  Having  taken  up  an 
idea,  he  uses  all  his  skill  in  the  manipulation  of  words  to 
support  his  view,  even  though  in  his  inner  consciousness  he 
fostered  a  conviction  that  it  was  not  exactly  a  correct  one. 
The  fact  of  occidental  fiction  being  revolting  to  the  Japa 
nese  moral  sense  is  far-fetched.  Many  people  amongst 
ourselves  are  of  opinion  that  in  much  of  our  fictional  work 
the  sexual  question  is  given  a  great  deal  too  much  promi 
nence;  what  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  male  Japanese, 
being  bound  by  social  convention  to  keep  all  feeling  under 
restraint,  from  the  first  moment  he  can  formulate  a 
thought,  should  look  upon  it  as  indecorous,  and,  above  all, 
inartistic,  to  express  his  sentiments  unreservedly  on  the 
subject  of  the  deeper  emotions,  but  that  does  not  for  a 
moment  prove  that  he  is  incapable  of  feeling  them. 

All  Japanese  art,  poetry  as  well  as  painting,  is  impres 
sionistic  and  suggestive  instead  of  detailed.  "Ittakkiri" 
(entirely  vanished,  in  the  sense  of  "all  told"),  is  a  term 

281 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

applied  contemptuously  to  the  poet  who,  instead  of  an  in 
dication,  puts  the  emotion  itself  into  words. 

The  art  of  writing  poetry  is  universal  in  Japan ;  verses, 
seldom  consisting  of  more  than  two  lines,  are  to  be  found 
upon  shop-signs,  panels,  screens  and  fans.  They  are 
printed  upon  towels,  draperies,  curtains  and  women's 
crepe  silk  underwear,  they  are  written  by  every  one  and 
for  all  occasions.  Is  a  woman  sad  and  lonely  at  home,  she 
writes  poems.  Is  a  man  unoccupied  for  an  hour,  he 
employs  himself  putting  his  thoughts  into  poetry.  Hearn 
was  continually  on  the  quest  of  these  simple  poems:  to 
Otani  he  writes,  "Please  this  month  collect  for  me,  if  you 
can,  some  songs  of  the  sound  of  the  sea  and  the  sound  of 
the  wind."  The  translations  given  by  him  in  his  essay 
entitled  ' '  Out  of  the  Street, ' '  contradict  his  statement  that 
the  Japanese  are  incapable  of  deep  feeling,  and  prove  that 
love  is  as  important  an  element  in  the  Island  Empire  as 
with  us,  though  the  expression  is  less  outspoken.  Some  of 
them  are  charming. 

"To  Heaven  with  all  my  soul  I  prayed  to  prevent  your  going; 
Already,  to  keep  you  with  me,  answers  the  blessed  rain. 

"Things  never  changed  since  the  Time  of  the  Gods: 
The  flowing  of  water,  the  Way  of  Love." 

His  next  book  was  "Exotics  and  Retrospectives ";  he 
thought  of  dedicating  this  volume  to  Mrs.  Wetmore  (Eliz 
abeth  Bisland),  but  in  a  letter  to  Ell  wood  Hendrik  he  ex 
presses  a  doubt  as  to  the  advisability  of  doing  so,  as  some 
of  the  essays  might  be  rather  of  a  startling  character.  Ulti- 
timately  he  dedicated  it  to  H.  H.  Hall,  late  U.  S.  Navy, 
"In  Constant  Friendship." 

The  prefatory  note  shows  how  permeated  his  mode  of 
thought  was  at  this  time  with  Buddhistical  theories.  .  .  . 

282 


USHIGOME 

"To  any  really  scientific  imagination,  the  curious  analogy 
existing  between  certain  teachings  of  Eastern  faith, — par 
ticularly  the  Buddhist  doctrine  that  all  sense-life  is  Karma, 
and  all  substance  only  the  phenomenal  result  of  acts  and 
thoughts, — might  have  suggested  something  much  more 
significant  than  my  cluster  of  'Retrospectives.'  These  are 
offered  merely  as  intimations  of  a  truth  incomparably  less 
difficult  to  recognise  than  to  define." 

:  The  first  essay,  describing  his  ascent  of  Fuji-no-yama,  is 
as  beautiful  a  piece  of  impressionistic  prose  as  Hearn  ever 
wrote — the  immense  poetry  of  the  moment  as  he  stood  on 
the  summit  and  looked  at  the  view  for  a  hundred  leagues, 
and  the  pilgrims  poised  upon  the  highest  crag,  with  faces 
turned  eastward,  clapping  their  hands  as  a  salutation  to 
the  mighty  day. 

The  colossal  vision  had  already  become  a  memory  inef 
faceable — a  memory  of  which  no  luminous  detail  could 
fade  till  the  light  from  the  myriad  millions  of  eyes  that 
had  looked  for  untold  ages  from  the  summit  supreme  of 
Fuji  to  the  rising  of  the  sun  had  been  quenched,  even  to 
the  hour  when  thought  itself  must  fade. 

"Ghostly  Japan,"  written  in  1899,  was  dedicated 

TO 

MRS.  ALICE  VON  BEHRENS 
FOR  AULD  LANG  SYNE. 

We  cannot  trace  any  mention  of  this  lady  elsewhere,  but 
conclude  she  was  one  of  his  New  York  acquaintances. 

"Think  not  that  dreams  appear  to  the  dreamer  only  at 
night:  the  dream  of  this  world  of  pain  appears  to  us  even 
by  day,"  is  the  translation  of  the  Japanese  poem  on  the 
first  page. 

To  Mitchell  McDonald  he  wrote,  saying  that  he  did  not 

283 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

quite  know  what  to  do  with  regard  to  "Ghostly  Japan. " 
Then  later  he  says,  he  has  been  and  gone  and  done  it.  In 
fifteen  minutes  he  had  the  whole  thing  perfectly  packed 
and  labelled  and  addressed  in  various  languages,  dedicated 
to  Mrs.  Behrens,  but  entrusted  largely  to  the  gods.  To 
save  himself  further  trouble  of  mind,  he  told  the  pub 
lishers  just  to  do  whatever  they  pleased  about  terms — and 
not  to  worry  him  concerning  them.  Then  he  felt  like  a 
man  liberated  from  prison — smelling  the  perfumed  air  of  a 
perfect  spring  day. 

In  1900  came  "  Shadowings, "  dedicated  to  Mitchell  Mc 
Donald.  Some  of  the  fantasies  at  the  end  are  full  of  his 
peculiar  ghostly  ideas.  A  statement  of  his  belief  in 
previous  existence  occurs  again  and  again:  "The  splen 
dour  of  the  eyes  that  we  worship  belongs  to  them  only  as 
brightness  to  the  morning  star.  It  is  a  reflex  from  beyond 
the  shadow  of  the  Now, — a  ghost  light  of  vanished  suns. 
Unknowingly  within  that  maiden-face  we  meet  the  gaze  of 
eyes  more  countless  than  the  hosts  of  Heaven, — eyes  other 
where  passed  into  darkness  and  dust  .  .  .  Thus  and 
only  thus  do  truth  and  delusion  mingle  in  the  magic  of 
eyes — the  spectral  past  suffusing  with  charm  ineffable  the 
apparition  of  the  present ;  and  the  sudden  splendour  in  the 
soul  of  the  seer  is  but  a  flash,  one  soundless  sheet  lightning 
of  the  infinite  memory. ' ' 

"Shadowings"  was  succeeded  by  a  "Japanese  Miscel 
lany,"  dedicated  to  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Bisland  "Wetmore. 
Here  there  is  no  reference  to  "Auld  Lang  Syne,''  nor  is 
there  a  touch  of  sentiment  from  beginning  to  end.  The 
book  is  perhaps  more  intensely  Japanese  and  fanciful  than 
any  yet  written,  and  to  occidental  readers  the  least  inter 
esting.  One  of  the  sketches,  inspired  by  his  sojournings  in 
the  village  of  Yaiduz,  is  a  paean,  as  it  were,  sung  to  the 
sea.  Another  on  "Dragon-Flies"  is  delightful  because  of 
its  impressionist  translations  of  Japanese  poems. 

284 


USHIGOME 

"Lonesomely  clings  the  dragon-fly  to  the  under  side  of  the  leaf. 
.     .     .    Ah!  the  autumn  rains!" 

And  a  verse  written  by  a  mother,  who,  seeing  children 
chasing  butterflies,  thinks  of  her  little  one  who  is  dead: — 

"Catching  dragon-flies!     ...     I  wonder  where  he  has  gone 
to-day." 


285 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
NISHI    OKUBO 

"From  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  many  are  the  paths  ascending  in 
shadow ;  but  from  the  cloudless  summit  all  who  climb  behold  the  self 
same  Moon." — Buddhist  poem  translated  by  LAFCADIO  HEABN. 

IT  was  on  the  19th  of  March,  1902,  that  the  Koizumi 
family  removed  from  21,  Tomihasa-chio,  Ichigaya,  Ushi- 
gome,  to  266,  Nishi  Okubo. 

Hearn  had  purchased  the  house  out  of  his  savings  and 
settled  it  on  his  wife  according  to  English  law,  as  no 
woman  can  hold  property  in  Japan.  It  is  there  that  Mrs. 
Hearn  now  livqs,  sub-letting  half  of  it  to  Captain  Fujisaki 
— one  of  Hearn 's  Matsue  students,  who  has  remained  an 
intimate  friend  of  his  widow  and  children.  Nishi  Okubo 
is  known  as  the  Gardeners'  Quarter,  where  the  celebrated 
Tokyo  azaleas  are  grown,  and  where  a  show  of  azaleas  is 
held  once  a  year. 

After  he  took  possession,  Hearn  added  on  the  library, 
or  Buddha-room,  as  it  is  now  called,  and  a  guest-room, 
which  was  assigned  to  Mrs.  Koizumi  for  her  occupation. 

Had  Hearn  at  this  time  managed  his  affairs  with  the 
least  businesslike  acumen,  he  might  have  enjoyed  the  com 
fortable  competency  which  his  widow  now  receives  from 
the  royalties  and  sales  of  his  books,  which  have  most  of 
them  been  translated  into  German,  Swedish  and  French, 
and  achieved  a  considerable  circulation  in  England. 

There  is  little  doubt  he  was  lamentably  wanting  in  the 
most  rudimentary  knowledge  of  practical  business  affairs, 
and  was  entirely  to  blame  for  the  difficulties  in  which  he 

286 


NISHI  OKUBO 

so  repeatedly  found  himself.  "I  have  given  up  thinking 
about  the  business  side  of  literature,  and  am  quite  content 
to  obtain  the  privilege  of  having  my  books  produced  ac 
cording  to  my  notions  of  things,"  he  writes  to  Mitchell 
McDonald. 

On  the  day  of  his  arrival  in  the  new  house,  while, — as 
sisted  by  his  wife, — he  was  arranging  his  books  in  the 
shelves  in  the  library,  he  suddenly  heard  an  uguisu 
(nightingale)  singing  in  the  bamboo-grove  outside.  He 
stopped  to  listen,  then  "How  delightful!"  he  said  to  his 
wife,  "Oh!  how  I  hope  I  will  live  here  for  years  until  I 
have  made  enough  for  you  and  the  children." 

During  the  last  two  years  of  his  life  he  suffered  a 
great  deal  from  his  eyes ;  each  month  more  powerful  glasses 
had  to  be  used;  and  he  was  obliged  to  stand  writing  at  a 
high  desk,  his  face  almost  touching  the  paper.  Yet  what 
a  beautiful  handwriting  it  is!  almost  as  plain  as  copper 
plate.  Composition  was  easy  for  him,  but  the  mechanical 
labour  of  setting  down  his  thoughts  became  very  irksome. 
Many  were  the  kind  offers  of  help  that  he  received;  Mr. 
Mason,  for  instance,  proposed  to  do  any  necessary  copying 
he  wanted,  but  he  was  too  irritable  to  do  work  in  conjunc 
tion  with  any  one,  and  was  never  able  to  dictate  success 
fully. 

The  absence  of  intellectual  communion  with  his  own 
compatriots  would  have  been  a  cruel  test  for  most  writers. 
His  manuscript  had  to  float  round  half  a  world  before 
it  met  with  sympathetic  understanding.  Surrounded  by 
complete  spiritual  solitude,  a  voluntary  outlaw  from  the 
practical  thought  of  his  time,  the  current  of  emotional 
and  practical  life  which  bore  most  of  his  contemporaries 
to  affluence  and  popularity  flowed  entirely  outside  his  men 
tal  boundary.  Yet,  is  it  not  most  probable  that  this  aloof 
ness  and  seclusion  from  the  world  invested  his  Tokyo  work 
with  its  unique  and  original  quality?  "The  isolation 

287 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ought,"  he  writes,  "unless  you  are  physically  tired  by  the 
day 's  work, — to  prove  of  value.  All  the  best  work  is  done 
this  way  by  tiny,  tireless  and  regular  additions,  preserving 
in  memory  what  you  think  and  see.  In  a  year  you  will  be 
astounded  to  find  them  self-arranging,  kaleidoscopically, 
into  something  symmetrical, — and  trying  to  live.  Then 
pray  God,  and  breathe  into  their  nostrils, — and  be  aston 
ished  and  pleased." 

"You  will  remember,"  he  says  elsewhere,  "my  philo 
sophical  theory  that  no  two  living  beings  have  the  same 
voice  .  .  .  and  it  is  the  uniqueness  of  each  that  has 
its  value.  ...  I  simply  now  try  to  do  the  best  I  can, 
without  reference  to  nationalities  or  schools." 

Strangeness,  we  are  told  by  the  Romantic  school,  is  es 
sential  for  the  highest  beauty;  it  was  a  theory  Hearn 
always  maintained,  but  his  strangeness  now  became  spirit 
ualised.  Instead  of  the  oddness  of  a  Creole  song,  or  a 
negro  "roustabout,"  it  was  the  oddness  of  the  ethics  and 
religious  superstitions  of  the  genius  of  a  remarkable  peo 
ple. 

At  this  time  Hearn  had  a  recurrence  of  the  emotional 
trances  he  had  suffered  from  at  various  times  in  his  life, 
a  state  of  mental  anaemia  common  to  brain-workers  of  no 
great  physical  stamina.  "He  saw  things,"  as  his  wife 
says,  "that  were  not,  and  heard  things  that  were  not." 
Absence  of  mind  was  a  peculiarity  inherited  with  his 
Hearn  inheritance.  Sometimes,  when  called  to  supper,  he 
would  declare  he  had  had  it  already,  and  continue  writing 
instead  of  joining  his  family,  or  if  he  did  join  them,  he 
would  make  all  sorts  of  blunders,  putting  salt  instead  of 
sugar  in  his  coffee,  and  eating  sugar  with  his  fish.  When 
his  brain  thus  went  "  argonauting, "  as  Ruskin  expresses 
it,  practical  consistency  was  forgotten,  even  the  sense  of 
personal  identity.  He  beheld  ghostly  apparitions  in  the 

288 


NISHI  OKUBO 

surrounding  air,  he  held  communion  with  a  multitude  of 
supernatural  visions,  a  procession  stretching  back  out  of 
life  into  the  night  of  forgotten  centuries.  We  can  see  him 
seated  in  his  library,  weaving  his  dreams  while  all  the 
household  slept,  so  absorbed  in  his  work  as  to  have  for 
gotten  bedtime,  the  stillness  only  broken  by  the  rapping 
of  his  little  pipe  against  the  Mbachi,  the  intermittent 
scratch  of  his  pen,  and  the  rustle  of  the  leaves  as  he  threw 
them  down,  while  the  bronze  figure  of  Buddha  on  his  lotus- 
stand,  stood  behind  with  uplifted  hand  and  enigmatic 
smile. 

Richard  Jefferies  was  wont  to  say  that  all  his  best  work 
was  done  from  memory.  The  * '  Pageant  of  Summer, ' '  with 
its  vivid  descriptions  and  realised  visions  of  country  mead 
ows  and  hedgerows  was  written  in  his  curtained  sick-room 
at  the  seaside  village  of  Goring.  So  Hearn  in  his  house 
at  Tokyo,  his  outlook  bounded  by  the  little  plot  of  garden 
beneath  his  study  window,  recalled  all  he  had  seen  and  felt 
during  his  wanderings  amongst  the  hills  and  by  the  sea 
shore  in  distant  parts  of  Japan.  The  laughter  of  streams 
and  whisper  of  leaves,  the  azure  of  sky  and  sea ;  the  falling 
of  the  blossoms  of  the  cherry-trees,  the  lilac  spread  of  the 
myiakobana,  the  blazing  yellow  of  the  natale,  the  flooded 
levels  of  the  lotus-fields,  and  the  pure  and  tender  green  of 
the  growing  rice.  Again  he  watched  the  flashing  dragon- 
flies,  the  long  grey  sand-crickets,  the  shrilling  semi,  and 
the  little  red  crabs  astir  under  the  roots  of  the  pines ;  again 
he  heard  the  croaking  of  the  frogs,  that  universal  song  of 
the  land  in  Japan,  the  melody  of  the  uguisu  and  the  moan 
of  the  surf  on  the  beach  at  Yaidzu. 

Hearn  is  principally  known  in  England  by  his  letters 
and  essays  on  the  social  and  political  development  of  Ja 
pan.  Cultured  people  who  have  Charles  Lamb,  De  Quin- 
cey,  or  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  at  their  fingers '  ends  will 

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LAFCADIO  HEARN 

open  eyes  of  wonder  if  you  venture  to  suggest  that  Hearn  's 
incidental  sketches  represent  some  of  the  best  work  of  the 
kind  done  by  any  of  our  English  essayists. 

Fresh,  spontaneous  and  unconventional,  the  whole  of  his 
genius  seems  suddenly  poured  forth  in  an  impulse  of 
sadness,  pity  or  humour.  After  some  grim  Japanese 
legend,  we  are  greeted  by  one  of  these  dainty  fancies  when 
his  acute  sensibility,  touched  and  awakened,  concentrated 
itself  on  the  trifle  of  a  moment.  With  the  mastery  of 
words  that  he  had  attained  after  years  of  hard  work,  he 
was  enabled  to  catch  the  evanescent  inspiration,  and  set 
it  down,  preaching  from  the  significance  of  small  things 
an  infinite  philosophy.  A  dewdrop  hanging  to  the  lattice 
of  his  window;  the  sighing  of  the  wind  in  the  bamboo- 
grove,  the  moon  rising  above  his  garden  fence,  were  all 
full  of  soul  secrets,  soul  life. 

In  a  sketch  entitled  "Moon  Desire, "  for  instance,  he 
begins  playfully,  almost  trivially,  and  ends  with  a  fine 
burst  of  eloquence  on  the  subject  of  human  desire  and 
attainment. 

"He  was  two  years  old  when — as  ordained  in  the  law  of 
perpetual  recurrence — he  asked  me  for  the  Moon. 

"Unwisely  I  protested: — 

"  'The  Moon  I  cannot  give  you  because  it  is  too  high 
up.  I  cannot  reach  it.' 

"He  answered: — 

"  'By  taking  a  very  long  bamboo,  you  probably  could 
reach  it,  and  knock  it  down.' 

".  .  .  Whereat  I  found  myself  constrained  to  make 
some  approximately  truthful  statements  concerning  the  na 
ture  and  position  of  the  Moon. 

"This  set  me  to  thinking.  I  thought  about  the  strange 
fascination  that  brightness  exerts  upon  living  creatures  in 
general, — upon  insects  and  fishes  and  birds  and  mam 
mals, — and  tried  to  account  for  it  by  some  inherited  mem- 

290 


NISHI  OKUBO 

ory  of  brightness  as  related  to  food,  to  water,  and  to  free 
dom.  .  .  . 

*  *  Have  we  any  right  to  laugh  at  the  child 's  wish  for  the 
Moon  ?  No  wish  could  be  more  natural ;  and  as  for  its  in 
congruity, — do  not  we,  children  of  a  larger  growth,  mostly 
nourish  wishes  quite  as  innocent, — longings  that  if  realised 
could  only  work  us  woe, — such  as  desire  for  the  contin 
uance  after  death  of  that  very  sense-life,  or  individuality, 
which  once  deluded  us  all  into  wanting  to  play  with  the 
Moon,  and  often  subsequently  deluded  us  in  far  less  pleas 
ant  ways? 

"•No,  foolish  as  may  seem  to  merely  empirical  reason 
ing,  the  wish  of  the  child  for  the  Moon,  I  have  an  idea  that 
the  highest  wisdom  commands  us  to  wish  for  very  much 
more  than  the  Moon, — even  for  more  than  the  Sun,  and  the 
Morning-Star,  and  all  the  Host  of  Heaven." 

He  suffered  much  from  depression  of  spirits  towards 
the  end,  his  wife  tells  us,  and  a  Celtic  tendency  to  vague 
and  wistful  dreaminess  became  more  strongly  developed, 
things  full  of  unexplained  meanings,  supernatural,  out 
side  the  experience  of  all  ages,  filled  his  mind.  He  had 
been  wont  to  talk  of  himself  as  "A  Voice"  in  past  New 
York  days.  Now  the  sense  of  disembodiment,  of  having 
sloughed  his  mortal  envelope  and  become  "one"  with  every 
gloom  of  shadow  and  flicker  of  sun,  one  with  the  rapture 
of  wind  and  sea — was  his.  The  fact  of  his  own  existence 
was  so  strange  and  unrealisable  that  he  seemed  always 
touching  the  margin  of  life,  meditating  on  higher  condi. 
tions  than  existence  here  below. 

1 '  In  the  dead  of  the  night !  So  black,  chill,  and  still, — 
that  I  touch  myself  to  find  out  whether  I  have  yet  a  body. 
.  .  .  A  clock  strikes  three!  I  shall  see  the  sun  again! 

"Once  again,  at  least.  Possibly  several  thousand  times. 
But  there  will  come  a  night  never  to  be  broken  by  any 
dawn —  m  f  .  Doubt  the  reality  of  the  substance  .  .  . 

291 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

the  faiths  of  men,  the  gods, — doubt  right  and  wrong, 
friendship  and  love,  the  existence  of  beauty,  the  existence 
of  horror; — there  will  always  remain  one  thing  impossible 
to  doubt, — one  infinite  blind  black  certainty.  .  .  .  And 
vain  all  human  striving  not  to  remember,  not  to  think :  the 
Veil  that  old  faiths  wove,  to  hide  the  Void,  has  been  rent 
for  ever  away; — the  Sheol  is  naked  before  us, — and  de 
struction  hath  no  covering. 

"So  surely  as  I  believe  that  I  exist,  even  so  surely  must 
I  believe  that  I  shall  cease  to  exist — which  is  horror! 
.  .  .  But— 

"Must  I  believe  that  I  really  exist  ?    .     .     ." 

Out  of  this  idea  he  weaves  a  chapter  of  thrilling  possi 
bilities,  and  ends,  "I  am  awake,  fully  awake!  .  .  . 
All  that  I  am  is  all  that  I  have  been.  Before  the  begin 
nings  of  time  I  was ; — beyond  the  uttermost  circling  of  the 
Eternities  I  shall  endure.  In  myriad  million  forms  I  but 
pern  to  pass:  as  form  I  am  only  Wave;  as  essence  I  am 
Sea.  Sea  without  shore  I  am; — and  Doubt  and  Fear  are 
but  duskings  that  fleet  on  the  face  of  my  depth.  .  »  . 

"Then  a  sparrow  twittered  from  the  roof;  another  re 
sponded.  Shapes  of  things  began  to  define  in  a  soft  grey 
glimmering; — and  the  gloom  slowly  lightened.  Murmurs 
of  the  city 's  wakening  came  to  my  ears  and  grew  and  mul 
tiplied.  And  the  dimness  flushed. 

"Then  rose  the  beautiful  and  holy  Sun,  the  mighty 
Quickener,  the  mighty  Purifier, — symbol  sublime  of  that 
infinite  Life  whose  forces  are  also  mine!  .  .  ." 

All  his  life  Hearn  had  had  a  singular  tenderness  for 
animals.  Mrs.  Hearn  describes  his  bringing  his  cats,  dogs, 
and  crickets  with  him  when  he  moved  from  Ushigome  to 
Nishi  Okubo.  The  very  mysteries  of  animal  intelligence 
fascinated  him,  and,  imbued  as  he  was  with  ideas  of  pre- 
existence  and  the  unity  of  all  life,  he  raised  them  in  imagi- 

292 


NISHI  OKUBO 

nation  almost  to  an  equality  with.  man.  The  dog  that 
guarded  his  gate  at  night,  the  dog  that  was  everybody's 
and  nobody's,  owned  nowhere. 

1 '  It  stays  in  the  house  of  the  foreigner, ' '  said  the  smith 's 
wife  when  the  policeman  asked  who  it  belonged  to. 
"Then  the  foreigner's  name  must  be  painted  upon  the 
dog."  Accordingly,  Hearn  had  his  name  painted  on  her 
back  in  big  Japanese  characters.  But  the  neighbours  did 
not  think  that  she  was  sufficiently  safeguarded  by  a  single 
name.  So  the  priest  of  Kobduera  painted  the  name  of  the 
temple  on  her  left  side,  in  beautiful  Chinese  text;  and 
the  smith  put  the  name  of  his  shop  on  her  right  side ;  and 
the  vegetable-seller  put  on  her  breast  the  ideographs  for 
" eight  hundred" — which  represent  the  customary  abbrevi 
ation  of  the  word  yaoya  (vegetable-seller) — any  yaoya  be 
ing  supposed  to  sell  eight  hundred  or  more  different  things. 
Consequently  she  was  a  very  curious-looking  dog;  but  she 
was  well  protected  by  all  that  caligraphy. 

His  wife  observed  him  with  bewilderment  as  he  spread 
out  a  piece  of  newspaper  on  the  matting,  and  fetching 
some  ants  out  of  a  mound  in  the  garden,  wratched  them 
moving  about  the  whole  afternoon.  How  could  the  little 
woman  guess  that  his  busy  brain  was  weaving  the  fine  Es 
say  on  "Ants,"  published  under  the  heading  of  "Insect 
Studies"  in  "Kwaidan"? 

"The  air — the  delicious  air! — is  full  of  sweet  resinous 
odours  shed  from  the  countless  pine-boughs  broken  and 
strewn  by  the  gale.  In  the  neighbouring  bamboo-grove  I 
hear  the  flute-call  of  the  bird  that  praises  the  Sutra  of  the 
Lotos;  and  the  land  is  very  still  by  reason  of  the  South 
wind.  Now  the  summer,  long  delayed,  is  truly  with  us: 
butterflies  of  queer  Japanese  colours  are  flickering  about; 
semi  are  whizzing ;  wasps  are  humming ;  gnats  are  dancing 
in  the  sun ;  and  the  ants  are  busy  repairing  their  damaged 
habitations.  .  .  . 

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LAFCADIO  HEARN 

".  .  .  But  those  big  black  ants  in  my  garden  do  not 
need  any  sympathy.  They  have  weathered  the  storm  in 
some  unimaginable  way,  while  great  trees  were  being  up 
rooted,  and  houses  blown  to  fragments,  and  roads  washed 
out  of  existence.  Yet,  before  the  typhoon,  they  took  no 
other  visible  precaution  than  to  block  up  the  gates  of  their 
subterranean  town.  And  the  spectacle  of  their  triumphant 
toil  to-day  impels  me  to  attempt  an  essay  on  Ants." 

After  relating  the  whimsical  story  of  a  man,  visited  by  a 
beautiful  woman,  who  told  him  that  she  was  acquainted 
with  the  language  of  ants,  and  as  he  had  been  good  to 
those  in  his  garden,  promised  to  anoint  his  ears,  so  that 
if  he  stooped  down  and  listened  carefully  to  the  ants'  talk, 
he  would  hear  of  something  to  his  advantage — 

"Sometimes,"  says  Hearn,  "the  fairy  of  science  touches 
my  ears  and  eyes  with  her  wand;  and  then,  for  a  little 
time,  I  am  able  to  hear  things  inaudible  and  perceive  things 
imperceptible. ' ' 

After  pages  of  minute  description  of  the  biology  of 
ants,  leading  to  a  still  larger  significance  concerning  the 
relation  of  ethics  to  cosmic  law,  he  thus  ends  his  essay: — 

"Apparently  the  highest  evolution  will  not  be  permitted 
to  creatures  capable  of  what  human  moral  experience  has 
in  all  eras  condemned. 

"The  greatest  strength  is  the  strength  of  unselfishness; 
and  power  supreme  never  will  be  accorded  to  cruelty  or 
to  lust.  There  may  be  no  gods;  but  the  forces  that  shape 
and  dissolve  all  forms  of  being  would  seem  to  be  much 
more  exacting  than  gods.  To  prove  a  'dramatic  tendency* 
in  the  ways  of  the  stars  is  not  possible;  but  the  cosmic 
process  seems  nevertheless  to  affirm  the  worth  of  every 
human  system  of  ethics  fundamentally  opposed  to  human 
egoism. ' ' 

In  "Exotics  and  Retrospectives"  Hearn  has  written  an 
Essay  on  "Insect  Musicians"  that  reveals  his  erudite  and 

294 


NISHI  OKUBO 

minute  care  in  the  study  of  "things  Japanese."  He 
describes  the  first  beginning  of  the  custom  of  keeping 
musical  insects,  tracing  it  down  from  ancient  Japanese 
records  to  a  certain  Chuzo  who  lived  in  the  Kwansei  era 
in  1789.  From  the  time  of  this  Chuzo  began  the  custom 
of  breeding  insect  musicians,  and  improving  the  quality 
of  their  song  from  generation  to  generation.  Every  de 
tail  of  how  they  are  kept  in  jars,  or  other  earthen  vessels 
half -filled  with  moistened  clay  and  are  supplied  every  day 
with  fresh  food  is  recounted.  The  essay  ends :  ' '  Does  not 
the  shrilling  booth  of  the  insect-seller  at  a  night  festival 
proclaim  a  popular  and  universal  comprehension  of  things 
divined  in  the  West  only  by  our  rarest  poets; — the  pleas 
ure-pain  of  autumn's  beauty,  the  weird  sweetness  of  the 
voices  of  the  night,  the  magical  quickening  of  remembrance 
by  echoes  of  forest  and  field?  Surely  we  have  something 
to  learn  from  the  people  in  whose  mind  the  simple  chant 
of  a  cricket  can  awaken  whole  fairy  swarms  of  tender  and 
delicate  fancies.  We  may  boast  of  being  their  masters 
in  the  mechanical, — their  teachers  of  the  artificial  in  all 
its  varieties  of  ugliness; — but  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
natural, — in  the  feeling  of  the  joy  and  beauty  of  earth, — 
they  exceed  us  like  the  Greeks  of  old.  Yet  perhaps  it  will 
be  only  when  our  blind  aggressive  industrialism  has  wasted 
and  sterilised  their  paradise, — substituting  everywhere  for 
beauty  the  utilitarian,  the  conventional,  the  vulgar,  the 
utterly  hideous, — that  we  shall  begin  with  remorseful 
amazement  to  comprehend  the  charm  of  that  which  we 
destroyed. ' ' 

During  his  later  days  at  Nishi  Okubo  he  owned  one  of 
these  "insect  musicians,"  a  grass-lark  or  Kusa-Hibari. 
"The  creature's  cage  was  exactly  two  Japanese  inches 
high  and  one  inch  and  a  half  wide.  IJe  was  so  small  that 
you  had  to  look  very  carefully  through  the  brown  gauze 
sides  of  it  in  order  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  him.  He  was 

295 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

only  a  cricket  about  the  size  of  an  ordinary  mosquito — 
with  a  pair  of  antennae  much  longer  than  his  own  body, 
and  so  fine  that  they  could  only  be  distinguished  against 
the  light. 

' '  He  was  worth  in  the  market  exactly  twelve  cents ;  very 
much  more  than  his  weight  in  gold.  Twelve  cents  for  such 
a  gnat-like  thing!  .  .  . 

"By  day  he  slept  or  meditated,  with  a  slice  of  egg-plant, 
or  cucumber  .  .  .  and  always  at  sunset  the  infinitesi 
mal  soul  of  him  awaked.  Then  the  room  began  to  fill 
with  a  sound  of  delicate  and  indescribable  sweetness,  a  thin, 
thin,  silvery  rippling  and  trilling,  as  of  tiniest  electric  bells. 
As  the  darkness  deepened  the  sound  became  sweeter,  some 
times  swelling  until  the  whole  house  seemed  to  vibrate 
with  the  elfish  resonance.  .  .  . 

"Now  this  tiny  song  is  a  song  of  love, — vague  love  of 
the  unseen  and  unknown.  It  is  quite  impossible  that  he 
should  ever  have  seen  or  known  in  this  present  existence 
of  his.  Not  even  his  ancestors  for  many  generations  back 
could  have  known  anything  of  the  night-life  of  the  fields, 
or  the  amorous  value  of  song.  They  were  born  of  eggs 
hatched  in  a  jar  of  clay,  in  the  shop  of  some  insect-mer 
chant;  and  they  dwelt  thereafter  only  in  cages.  But  he 
sings  the  song  of  his  race  as  it  was  sung  a  myriad  years 
ago,  and  as  faultlessly  as  if  he  understood  the  exact  sig 
nificance  of  every  note.  Of  course  he  did  not  learn  the 
song.  It  is  a  song  of  organic  memory, — deep,  dim  mem 
ory  of  other  quintillions  of  lives,  when  the  ghost  of  him 
shrilled  at  night  from  the  dewy  grasses  of  the  hills.  Then 
that  song  brought  him  love, — and  death.  He  has  forgotten 
all  about  death;  but  he  remembers  the  love.  And  there 
fore  he  sings  now — for  the  bride  that  will  never  come. 
.  .  .  He  cries  to  the  dust  of  the  past, — he  calls  to  the 
silence  and  the  gods  for  the  return  of  time.  .  .  .  Hu 
man  loves  do  very  much  the  same  thing  without  knowing 

296 


NISHI  OKUBO 

it.  They  call  their  illusion  an  Ideal,  and  their  Ideal  is, 
after  all,  a  mere  shadowing  of  race-experience,  a  phantom 
of  organic  memory.  .  .  ."  Then  he  goes  on  in  half- 
humorous,  half-pathetic  way,  to  tell  how  Hana,  the  un 
sympathetic  Hana,  the  housemaid,  when  there  was  no  more 
egg-plant,  never  thought  of  substituting  a  slice  of  onion 
or  cucumber.  So  the  fairy  music  stopped,  and  the  still 
ness  was  full  of  reproach,  and  the  room  cold  in  spite  of 
the  stove.  And  he  reproved  Hana  .  .  .  "but  how  ab 
surd!  ...  I  have  made  a  good  girl  unhappy  because 
of  an  insect  half  the  size  of  a  barley  grain!  ...  I 
have  felt  so  much  in  the  hush  of  the  night,  the  charm  of 
the  delicate  voice, — telling  of  one  minute  existence  de 
pendent  upon  my  will  and  selfish  pleasure,  as  upon  the 
favour  of  a  god, — telling  me  also  that  the  atom  of  ghost 
in  the  tiny  cage,  and  the  atom  of  ghost  within  myself, 
were  forever  but  one  and  the  same  in  the  deeps  of  the 
vast  of  Being.  .  .  .  And  then  to  think  of  the  little 
creature  hungering  and  thirsting,  night  after  night,  and 
day  after  day,  while  the  thoughts  of  his  guardian  deity 
were  turned  to  the  weaving  of  dreams!  .  .  .  How 
bravely,  nevertheless,  he  sank  on  to  the  very  end, — an 
atrocious  end,  for  he  had  eaten  his  own  legs!  .  .  . 
May  the  gods  forgive  us  all, — especially  Hana  the  house 
maid! 

"Yet,  after  all,  to  devour  one's  own  legs  for  hunger  is 
not  the  worst  that  can  happen  to  a  being  cursed  with  the 
gift  of  song.  There  are  human  crickets  who  must  eat  their 
own  hearts  in  order  to  sing." 

During  the  last  few  months  of  Hearn's  life,  every  gleam 
of  eyesight,  every  heart-beat,  all  his  nerve  power  were 
directed  to  one  subject — the  polishing  of  his  twenty-two 
lectures  incorporated  later  under  the  title  "Japan,  An  At 
tempt  at  Interpretation."  This  volume  is,  as  it  were,  the 
crystallisation  and  summary  of  his  fourteen  years'  resi- 

297 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

dence  in  the  country,  and,  as  one  of  his  most  eminent 
critics  says,  "is  a  work  which  is  a  classic  in  science,  a 
wonder  of  erudition,  the  product  of  long  years  of  keenest 
observation,  of  marvellous  comprehension. " 

Though  the  "Romance  of  the  Milky  Way"  was  pub 
lished  later,  these  Rejected  Addresses,  as  he  whimsically 
termed  them,  were  the  last  product  of  his  industrious  pen. 
A  sudden  and  violent  illness  interrupted  the  work  for  a 
time,  but  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  he  was  at  his  desk 
again.  "So  hard  a  task  was  it,"  his  wife  tells  us,  "that 
on  one  occasion  he  said:  'This  book  will  kill  me,  it  is 
more  than  I  can  do  to  create  so  big  a  book  in  so  short  a 
time/  As,  at  the  time,  he  had  no  teaching  or  lecturing 
at  the  university,  he  poured  all  his  strength  into  his  writ 
ing  at  home."  When  it  was  completed  it  seemed  as  if 
a  load  were  lifted  off  him,  and  he  looked  forward  eagerly 
to  the  sight  of  the  new  volume;  a  little  before  his  death 
he  said  that  he  could  hear  in  imagination  the  sound  of  the 
typewriter  in  America  copying  the  pages  for  the  press. 
The  privilege,  however,  of  seeing  the  book  completed  was 
not  destined  to  be  his. 

In  no  book  of  Hearn's  are  impartial  judgment,  insight 
and  comprehensiveness  displayed  as  clearly  as  in  "Japan, 
an  Interpretation."  It  is  a  challenge  to  those  who  say 
that  his  views  of  Japan  were  fallacious  and  unreliable,  and 
that  he  was  only  capable  of  giving  descriptions  of  scenery 
or  retailing  legends  and  superstitions. 


298 


CHAPTER  XXV 
HIS    DEATH 

<e.  .  .  Are  not  we  ourselves  as  lanterns  launched  upon  a  deeper 
and  a  dimmer  sea,  and  ever  separating  farther  and  farther  one  from 
another  as  we  drift  to  the  inevitable  dissolution?  Soon  the  thought- 
light  in  each  burns  itself  out:  then  the  poor  frames,  and  all  that 
is  left  of  their  once  fair  colours,  must  melt  forever  into  the  colourless 
Void.  .  .  ." 

TEN  years  after  his  arrival  in  Japan  the  lode-star  of 
Laf cadio  Hearn  '&  life  and  genius  rose  above  the  far  eastern 
horizon,  to  cast  her  clear  and  serene  radiance  on  the 
shadowed  path  that  henceforth  was  but  a  descent  towards 
the  end.  We  conclude  that ' '  The  Lady  of  a  Myriad  Souls ' ' 
had  written  an  appreciative  letter  on  the  subject  of  his 
work,  and  his,  dated  January,  1900,  was  in  answer  to  hers. 

The  thread  was  taken  up  where  it  had  been  dropped, 
the  old  affection  and  friendship  reopened,  unchanged,  un 
impaired. 

Three  subjects  occupied  Hearn 's  thoughts  at  this  time 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  others:  a  longing  to  get  back  to 
the  West  amongst  his  own  people,  his  failing  health,  and 
anxiety  for  the  future  of  his  eldest  boy — his  Benjamin — 
in  case  of  his  death.  Except  perhaps  a  hint  to  McDonald, 
it  is  only  to  Mrs.  Wetmore  that  he  drew  aside  the  veil, 
and  showed  how  clearly  he  realised  that  his  span  of  life 
was  now  but  a  short  one.  "The  sound  of  the  breakers 
ahead  is  in  his  ears,"  "the  scythe  is  sharpening  in  sight." 
"I  have  had  one  physical  warning  .  .  .  my  body  no 
longer  belongs  to  me,  as  the  Japanese  say."  And  again: 
"At  my  time  of  life,  except  in  the  ease  of  strong  men, 

299 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

there  is  a  great  loss  of  energy,  the  breaking  up  begins." 
With  intense  longing  did  his  thoughts  these  days  revert 
to  the  Western  lands  from  which  he  had  voluntarily  ex 
patriated  himself.  "I  have  been  so  isolated  that  I  must 
acknowledge  the  weakness  of  wishing  to  be  amongst 
Englishmen  again  .  .  .  with  all  their  prejudices  and 
conventions. ' ' 

The  Race  Problem !  one  of  the  most  perplexing  on  earth. 
A  man  thinks  he  has  wholly  and  finally  given  up  his 
country,  sloughed  off  inherited  civilisation,  discarded 
former  habits  and  cast  of  thought;  but — such  a  stubborn 
thing  is  human  nature — sooner  or  later,  the  oft-repeated 
cry  of  the  wanderer,  surrounded  by  alien  hearts  and  alien 
faces,  arises  to  that  Power  that  made  him  what  he  is. 
"Give  back  the  land  where  I  was  born,  let  me  fight  for 
what  my  own  people  fight  for,  let  me  love  as  they  love, 
worship  as  they  worship. " 

At  the  time  of  Kazuo's  birth  Hearn  had  expressed  a 
hope  "that  he  might  wear  sandals  and  kimono,  and  be 
come  a  good  little  Buddhist. ' '  This  was  during  the  period 
of  his  enthusiasm  for  "things  Japanese. "  When  he  came 
to  issue  with  the  officials  at  Kumamoto,  and  later  at 
Tokyo,  a  change  was  effected  in  his  view,  and  he  longed 
earnestly  to  make  him  an  occidental — one  of  his  own  people. 

All  the  expansion  of  communion  and  understanding  de 
nied  him  in  the  life  he  had  passed  amongst  those  who 
viewed  things  from  an  entirely  different  standpoint,  seemed 
centred  on  the  boy.  He  hoped  to  educate  him  abroad, 
to  make  an  Englishman  of  him,  to  put  him  into  a  pro 
fession,  either  in  the  army  or  navy,  so  that  he  might  serve 
the  country  his  father  had  forsworn.  In  this  desire 
Hearn  reckoned  without  his  host.  By  his  action  in  nation 
alising  himself  a  Japanese,  when  he  married  Setsu 
Koizumi,  his  son  is  a  Japanese,  born  in  Japan  under 
Japanese  conditions,  and  unless  he  throws  off  all  family  ties 

300 


HIS  DEATH 

and  responsibilities,  which,  being  the  eldest  son,  are — 
according  to  communal  law  in  Japan — considerable,  he 
must  submit  to  this  inexorable  destiny.  In  his  father's 
adopted  country  the  military  or  naval  profession  is  closed 
to  him,  however,  in  consequence  of  his  defective  eyesight, 
and  both  would  have  been  closed  to  him  also  in  England. 

Mrs.  Atkinson,  anxious  to  carry  out  the  wishes  her  half- 
brother  had  expressed  in  his  letters,  with  regard  to  the 
future  of  his  eldest  son,  made  inquiries  on  the  subject  of 
various  people  at  Tokyo.  The  same  answer  was  given  on 
every  side.  He  is  a  Japanese,  and  must  conform  to  the 
dictates  of  the  Japanese  authorities.  They  might  permit 
him  to  go  away  for  a  year  or  so  for  study,  but  he  must 
serve  the  country  his  father  had  adopted,  in  some  capacity, 
or  renounce  his  nationality.  Meantime,  the  boy  is  re 
ceiving  a  first-class  education  at  the  Waseda  University; 
he  is  perfectly  happy,  and  would  be  most  reluctant  to 
separate  from  his  relations.  As  to  his  mother,  it  would 
break  her  heart  if  any  idea  of  his  leaving  Tokyo  was  sug 
gested. 

In  the  spring  of  1903  as  Hearn  had  anticipated,  he  was 
forced  out  of  the  Imperial  University,  on  the  pretext  that 
as  a  Japanese  citizen  he  was  not  entitled  to  a  foreign 
salary.  The  students,  as  we  can  see  by  Yone  Noguchi's 
last  book,  made  a  strong  protest  in  his  favour,  and  he  was 
offered  a  re-engagement,  but  at  terms  so  devised  that  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  re-engage.  He  was  also  refused 
the  money  allowed  to  professors  for  a  nine  months*  vaca 
tion  after  a  service  of  six  years ;  yet  he  had  served  seven 
years.  On  this  subject  Hearn  was  very  bitter.  "  The  long 
and  the  short  of  the  matter  is  that  after  having  worked 
during  thirteen  years  for  Japan,  and  sacrificed  everything 
for  Japan,  I  have  been  only  driven  out  of  the  service  and 
practically  vanished  from  the  country.  For  while  the 
politico-religious  combination  that  has  engineered  this  mat- 

301 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

ter  remains  in  unbroken  power,  I  could  not  hold  any  posi 
tion  in  any  educational  establishment  here  for  even  six 
months. ' ' 

In  judging  the  controversy  between  Hearn  and  the 
authorities  at  this  juncture,  it  is  well  to  remember  that 
Japan  was  struggling  for  existence.  She  was  heavily  in 
debt,  having  been  deprived  by  the  allied  powers  of  her 
indemnity  from  China.  She  could  not  afford  to  be  soft 
hearted,  and  her  own  people,  students,  professors,  every 
one  official,  were  heroically  at  this  time  renouncing  emolu 
ment  of  any  kind  to  help  their  country  in  her  need. 
Hearn 's  health  precluded  the  possibility  of  his  fulfilling 
the  duties  of  his  engagement,  and  the  means  at  the  dis 
posal  of  the  government  did  not  permit  of  their  taking 
into  consideration  the  possible  payment  of  a  pension.  It 
seems  hard,  perhaps,  but  the  Japanese  are  a  hard  race, 
made  of  steel  and  iron,  or  they  never  could  have  accom 
plished  the  overwhelming  task  that  has  been  set  them 
within  the  last  ten  years.  At  the  time  when  the  war  with 
Russia  was  raging,  and  Hearn  got  his  discharge,  her  re 
sources  were  strained  to  the  utmost,  her  own  people  were 
submitting  to  almost  incredible  privations,  officials  who  had 
been  receiving  pay  that  it  seemed  almost  impossible  to 
live  upon,  accepting  one-half  the  salary  they  had  been 
accustomed  to,  and  college  professors  not  only  existing  on 
starvation  rations,  but  managing  to  pay  the  expenses  of 
junior  students.  It  must  also  be  remembered  that  national 
sentiment  had  been  awakened,  that  the  Japanese  were  re 
verting  to  the  ancient  authority,  and  belief  and  foreign 
teaching  was  at  a  discount.  All  this,  however,  did  not 
make  it  easier  for  Hearn;  in  spite  of  his  admiration  for 
Japanese  gallantry  he  railed  at  Japanese  officialism.  To 
the  listening  soul  of  his  friend  beyond  the  ocean,  thou 
sands  of  miles  away,  he  poured  forth  all  his  disillusion- 
ments,  all  his  anxieties.  To  her  he  turned,  for  advice  and 

302 


HIS  DEATH 

guidance,  for  "did  she  not  represent  to  his  imagination 
all  the  Sibyls?  and  was  not  her  wisdom  as  the  worth  of 
things  precious  from  the  uttermost  coasts?"  He  felt  he 
must  leave  the  Far  East  for  a  couple  of  years  to  school 
his  little  son  in  foreign  languages.  ''Whether  I  take  him 
to  England  or  America,  I  do  not  yet  know ;  but  America  is 
not  very  far  from  England.  Two  of  the  boys  are  all 
Japanese, — sturdy  and  not  likely  to  cause  anxiety,  but 
the  eldest, ' '  he  says, ' '  is  not  very  strong,  and  I  must  devote 
the  rest  of  my  life  to  looking  after  him. ' ' 

And  she — his  wise  friend — knowing  the  limitations  en 
forced  by  Hearn's  isolation  and  failing  health,  living  as 
she  did  in  the  midst  of  that  awful  American  life  of  com 
petition  and  struggle,  enjoined  prudent  action  and  patient 
waiting,  for,  after  all,  ' '  no  one  can  save  him  but  himself. ' ' 

"Very  true,"  was  Hearn's  answer — and  well  did  he 
know,  for  had  not  he,  the  half -blind  journalist,  worked 
his  way,  unaided  and  alone,  into  the  position  of  being  one 
of  the  signal  lights  in  the  literature  of  the  day  ?  "No  one 
can  save  him  but  himself.  ...  I  am,  or  have  been, 
always  afraid:  the  Future-Possible  of  Nightmare  imme 
diately  glooms  up, — and  I  flee,  and  bury  myself  in  work. 
Absurd?  .  .  .  Kazuo  is  everything  that  a  girl  might 
be,  that  a  man  should  not  be, — except  as  to  bodily  strength. 
.  .  .  I  taught  him  to  swim  and  make  him  practice  gym 
nastics  every  day;  but  the  spirit  of  him  is  altogether  too 
gentle,  a  being  entirely  innocent  of  evil — what  chance  for 
him  in  such  a  world  as  Japan  ?  Do  you  know  that  terribly^ 
pathetic  poem  of  Robert  Bridges':  'Pater  Filio'?" 

The  following  are  the  lines  to  which  Hearn  refers : — 

"Sense  with  keenest  edge  unused, 

Yet  unsteePd  by  scathing  fire; 
Lovely  feet  as  yet  unbruised, 

On  the  ways  of  dark  desire; 
Sweetest  hope  that  lookest  smiling 
O'er  the  wilderness  defiling! 

303 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

"Why  such  beauty,  to  be  blighted, 

By  the  swarm  of  foul  destruction? 
Why  such  innocence  delighted, 

When  sin  stalks  to  thy  seduction? 
All  the  litanies  e'er  chanted, 
Shall  not  keep  thy  faith  undaunted. 

"I  have  pray'd  the   Sainted  Morning 
To  unclasp  her  hands  to  hold  theej 

From  resignful  E've's  adorning 

Stol'n  a  robe  of  peace  to  enfold  thee; 

With  all  charms  of  man's  contriving 

Arm'd  thee  for  thy  lonely  striving. 

"Me  too  once  unthinking  Nature, 

— Whence  Love's  timeless  mockery  took  me, — 
Fashion'd  so  divine  a  creature, 

Yes,  and  like  a  beast  forsook  me. 
I  forgave,  but  tell  the  measure, 
Of  her  crime  in  thee,  my  treasure." 

It  seems  as  if  lie  were  haunted  by  memories  of  his  own 
thwarted  childhood  and  shipwrecked  youth.  If  possible 
he  wished  to  guard  and  protect  his  Benjamin  from  the 
pitfalls  that  had  beset  his  path,  knowing  that  the  same 
dangers  might  prevail  in  Kazuo's  case  as  in  his  own,  and 
that  there  might  be  no  one  to  protect  and  guard  him. 

A  charming  piece  of  prose,  from  which  I  give  a  few 
extracts,  was  found  amongst  Hearn's  papers  after  his 
death.  The  manuscript,  lent  to  me  by  Mrs.  Atkinson,  lies 
by  my  hand  as  I  write ;  it  is  entitled  "Fear." 

"An  old,  old  sea-wall,  stretching  between  two  bound 
less  levels,  green  and  blue.  Everything  is  steeped  in  white 
sun ;  and  I  am  standing  on  the  wall.  Along  its  broad  and 
grass-grown  top  a  boy  is  running  towards  me, — running 
in  sandals  of  wood, — the  sea-breeze  blowing  aside  the  long 
sleeves  of  his  robe  as  he  runs.  .  .  .  With  what  sudden 
incommunicable  pang  do  I  watch  the  gracious  little  figure 
leaping  in  the  light.  ...  A  delicate  boy,  with  the 

304 


HIS  DEATH 

blended  charm  of  two  races.  .  .  .  And  how  softly  vivid 
all  things  under  this  milky  radiance, — the  smiling  child- 
face  with  lips  apart, — the  twinkle  of  the  light  quick  feet, 
— the  shadows  of  grasses  and  of  little  stones!  .  .  . 

' 'But  quickly  as  he  runs,  the  child  will  come  no  nearer 
to  me, — the  slim  brown  hand  will  never  cling  to  mine. 
For  this  light  is  the  light  of  a  Japanese  sun  that  set  long 
years  ago.  .  .  .  Never,  dearest ! — never  shall  we  meet, 
— not  even  when  the  stars  are  dead ! ' ' 

By  the  exercise  of  a  considerable  amount  of  diplomacy 
Mrs.  Wetmore  succeeded  at  this  time  in  inducing  Jacob 
Gould  Schurmann,  president  of  Cornell  University,  to  enter 
into  an  arrangement  with  Hearn  for  a  series  of  lectures  on 
Japan. 

As  of  old,  she  believed  him  capable  of  conquering  Fate, 
in  spite  of  the  despotism  of  fact  as  exemplified  in  the  loss 
of  eyesight  and  broken  health;  she  felt  sure  he  could 
interest  an  American  audience  by  the  material  he  had  to 
offer,  and  the  scholarly  way  in  which  he  knew  how  to 
utilise  it. 

His  answer  to  the  suggestion  of  the  lectures  is  character 
istic  : — 

"0  fairy!  what  have  you  dared  to  say?  I  am  quite 
sure  that  I  do  not  know  anything  about  Japanese  art,  or 
literature,  or  ethnology,  or  politics,  or  history.  (You  did 
not  say  *  polities'  or  'history/  however,  and  that  seems 
to  be  what  is  wanted.)  But  perhaps  you  know  what 
I  know  better  than  I  myself  know, — or  perhaps  you  can 
give  me  to  eat  a  Fairy  Apple  of  Knowledge.  At  present 
I  have  no  acquaintance  even  with  the  Japanese  language: 
I  cannot  read  a  Japanese  newspaper:  and  I  have  learned 
only  enough,  even  of  the  Jcana,  to  write  a  letter  home.  I 
cannot  lie — to  my  Fairy;  therefore  it  is  essential  that  I 
make  the  following  declaration: — " 

Then  he  repeats  the  statement  made  in  the  preface  of 

305 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

''Japan,  an  Interpretation."  For  these  lectures  prepared 
with  so  much  industry  and  care  were  destined  ultimately 
to  go  to  the  making  of  that  beautiful  and  lucid  exposition 
of  the  history  and  thought  of  a  great  people. 

The  world  has  to  be  grateful  to  President  Schurmann 
for  withdrawing  from  his  contract,  and  cancelling  the  offer 
made  to  Hearn  for  the  delivery  of  lectures  at  the  university. 

The  excuse  that  illness  had  broken  out  at  Cornell  was 
hardly  a  sufficient  one.  There  is  little  doubt  that  un 
favourable  reports  of  Hearn 's  state  of  health,  and  doubts 
as  to  the  possibility  of  his  being  able  to  lecture  in  public, 
had  drifted  to  Cornell,  and  the  president,  acting  for  the 
best  interests  of  his  university,  did  not  feel  justified  in 
abiding  by  his  proposals. 

With  that  extraordinary  mental  elasticity  that  charac 
terised  him  all  his  life,  Hearn  made  the  best  of  the  situa 
tion,  and  set  to  work,  polishing  and  repolishing  his  twenty- 
two  lectures  until  they  reached  the  high  level  of  style  that 
distinguishes  "Japan,  an  Interpretation."  His  courage 
was  the  more  extraordinary  as,  filled  with  the  idea  that 
he  was  at  last  going  to  America,  he  had  gone  into  every 
detail  of  meeting  his  friend.  l '  I  would  go  straight  to  your 
Palace  of  Fairy  before  going  elsewhere,"  he  writes  to 
Mrs.  Wetmore,  ' '  only  to  see  you  again — even  for  a  moment 
— and  to  hear  you  speak  in  some  one  of  the  myriad  voices 
would  be  such  a  memory  for  me,  and  you  would  let  me 
'walk  about  gently  touching  things.'  .  .  ."  Then  in 
another  letter  comes  a  sigh  of  regret,  and  as  it  were  fare 
well.  "But  your  gifts,  0  Faery  Queen  have  faded  away, 
even  as  in  the  Song  .  .  .  and  I  am  also  fading  away." 

After  the  failure  of  his  projected  visit  to  America,  a 
suggestion  was  made  by  the  University  of  London  that 
he  should  give  a  series  of  lectures  there.  But  here  was 
the  "Ah-ness"  of  things.  Had  Hearn 's  health  permitted 
he  would  probably  have  been  in  England  in  1905,  where 

306 


HIS  DEATH 

he  would  have  been  received  with  honour.  The  Japanese 
had  fought  Russia  and  beaten  her.  People  became  wildly 
enthusiastic  about  Japan:  the  libraries  were  besieged  with 
inquiries  for  Hearn's  books, — just  at  the  eleventh  hour, 
when  he  had  become  a  name,  he  died ! 

All  his  life  his  dream  had  been  to  be  independent,  to 
be  able  to  travel.  Referring  to  a  gentleman  who  was  in 
Japan,  he  once  said,  "I  envy  him  his  independence.  Think 
of  being  able  to  live  where  one  pleases,  nobody's  servant, 
— able  to  choose  one's  own  studies  and  friends  and 
books. " 

The  offer  of  an  easy  post  was  made  to  Hearn  about 
this  time  as  professor  of  English  in  the  Waseda  University 
founded  by  Count  Okuma.  He  closed  with  it  at  once, 
thus  putting  an  end  to  all  negotiations  with  the  University 
of  London. 

His  youngest  child,  Setsu-ko,  was  born  this  year,  and  all 
idea  of  leaving  Japan  was  henceforth  abandoned. 

In  his  last  letter  to  Mrs.  Wetmore,  dated  September, 
1904 — the  month  in  which,  he  died — he  touches  on  the 
dedication  he  had  made  to  her  in  his  book,  "A  Japanese 
Miscellany."  To  the  last  the  same  sympathy  and  under 
standing  reigned  between  them.  Patiently  she  exhorted, 
comforted.  Her  wise  counsel  and  advice  soothed  his  torn 
nerves  and  aching  heart  to  the  end.  So  this  affection,  un 
touched  by  the  moth  and  rust  of  worldly  intercourse,  went 
down  with  him  * '  into  the  dust  of  death.  * ' 

Slowly  but  surely  the  years  with  their  chequered  story 
were  drawing  to  an  end.  The  sum  of  endeavour  was  com 
plete,  the  secrets  Death  had  in  its  keeping  were  there  for 
the  solving  of  this  ardent,  industrious  spirit. 

Many  accounts  have  been  published  of  Hearn's  last 
hours,  too  many  some  of  his  friends  in  Japan  think. 
From  all  of  them  we  glean  the  same  impression — a  calm 
heroic  bearing  towards  the  final  mystery,  a  fine  considera- 

307 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

tion  for  others,  the  thought  of  the  future  of  his  wife  and 
children,  triumphing  over  suffering  and  death. 

He  always  rose  before  six.  '  *  On  the  morning  of  the  26th 
of  September,  he  was  smoking  in  his  library,"  his  wife 
tells  us.  "When  I  went  in  to  say  my  morning  greeting, 
f  Ohayo  gozaimasu, '  he  seemed  to  be  fallen  in  deep  thought, 
then  he  said,  'It's  verily  strange.'  I  asked  him  what  was 
strange,  and  he  said,  'I  dreamed  an  extraordinary  dream 
last  night,  I  made  a  long  travel,  but  here  I  am  now  smoking 
in  the  library  of  our  house  at  Nishi  Okubo.  Life  and  the 
world  are  strange.' 

"  'Was  it  in  the  Western  country?'  I  asked  again.  'Oh, 
no,  it  was  neither  in  the  Western  country  nor  Japan,  but 
the  strangest  land, '  he  said. ' ' 

While  writing,  Hearn  had  a  habit  of  breaking  off  sud 
denly  and  walking  up  and  down  the  library  or  along  the 
verandah  facing  the  garden.  The  day  he  died  he  stopped 
and  looked  into  his  wife's  room  next  the  library.  In  her 
tokonoma  she  had  just  hung  up  a  Japanese  painting  repre 
senting  a  moonlight  scene.  "Oh,  what  a  lovely  picture," 
he  exclaimed.  "I  wish  I  could  go  in  my  dreams  to  such 
a  country  as  that."  Sad  to  think  he  had  passed  into  the 
country  of  dreams  and  moonlight  before  the  next  twelve 
hours  were  over! 

Two  or  three  days  before  his  death  one  of  the  girls 
called  0  Saki,  the  daughter  of  Otokichi,  of  Yaidzu,  found 
a  cherry-blossom  on  a  cherry-tree  in  the  garden, — not 
much  to  look  at — but  it  was  a  blossom  blooming  out  of 
season,  in  the  direction  of  his  library ;  she  told  her  fellow- 
servant  Hana,  who  in  turn  repeated  it  to  Mrs.  Koizumi. 

' '  I  could  not  help  telling  him ;  he  came  out  of  the  library 
and  gazed  at  it  for  some  moments,  'The  flower  must  have 
been  thinking  that  Spring  is  here  for  the  weather  is  so 
warm  and  lovely.  It  is  strange  and  beautiful,  but  will 
soon  die  under  the  approaching  cold. ' 

308 


HIS  DEATH 

"You  may  call  it  superstition  if  you  will,  but  I  cannot 
help  thinking  that  the  Kaerizaki,  or  bloom,  returned  out 
of  season,  appeared  to  bid  farewell  to  Hearn  as  it  was  his 
beloved  tree.  .  .  ." 

In  a  letter  written  to  Mrs.  Atkinson,  some  months  after 
Lafcadio's  death,  Mrs.  Koizumi,  thus  describes  his  last 
hours :  ' '  On  the  evening  of  September  26th,  after  supper, 
he  conversed  with  us  pleasantly,  and  as  he  was  about  going 
to  his  room,  a  sudden  aching  attacked  his  heart.  The  pain 
lasted  only  some  twenty  minutes.  After  walking  to  and 
fro,  he  wanted  to  lie  down;  with  his  hands  on  his  breast 
he  lay  very  calm  in  bed,  but  in  a  few  minutes  after,  as  if 
feeling  no  pain  at  all,  with  a  little  smile  about  his  mouth, 
he  ceased  to  be  a  man  of  this  side  of  the  world.  I  could 
not  believe  that  he  died,  so  sudden  was  his  fate." 


309 


'' 


CHAPTER  XXYI 
HIS    FUNERAL 

"If  these  tendencies  which  make  individuals  and  races  belong,  as 
they  seem  to  do,  to  the  life  of  the  Cosmos,  what  strange  possibilities 
are  in  order.  Every  life  must  have  its  eternal  records  in  the  Uni 
versal  life, — every  thought  of  good  or  ill  or  aspiration, — and  the 
Buddhistic  Karma  would  be  a  scientific,  not  a  theoretical  doctrine; 
all  about  us  the  thoughts  of  the  dead,  and  the  life  of  countless  dead 
worlds  would  be  forever  acting  invisibly  on  us." 

PERHAPS  of  all  the  incongruous,  paradoxical  incidents 
connected  with  Lafcadio  Hearn's  memory,  none  is  more 
incongruous  or  paradoxical  than  his  funeral. 

It  is  believed  by  many  that  Yakumo  Koizumi  (Lafcadio 
Hearn)  died  a  Buddhist,  though  he  himself  explicitly  de 
clared  that  he  subscribed  to  no  religious  formula,  and 
detested  all  ecclesiasticism.  When  he  faced  the  last  great 
problem,  as  we  see  by  his  essay  entitled  ''Ultimate  Ques-. 
tions ' '  in  the  volume  published  after  his  death,  his  thoughts 
soared  beyond  any  boundary  line  or  limitation,  set  by 
dogmatists  or  theologians;  all  fanciful  ideas  of  Nir 
vana,  or  Metempsychosis  or  ancestor  worship,  were  swept 
away,  he  was  but  an  entity  freed  from  superstitious 

kand  religious  palliatives,  facing  the  awful  idea  of  infinite 
space. 
Yet — Nemesis  of  his  own  instability,  revealing  also  how 
absolutely  alien  to  his  sphere  of  thought  were  the  sur 
roundings  in  which  he  had  spent  his  latter  years — at  his 
death  his  body  was  taken  possession  of  by  priests,  who  pre 
pared  it  for  burial,  sat  beside  it  until  the  obsequies  were 
over,  and  conducted  the  burial  service  with  every  fantastic 

310 


HIS  FUNERAL 

accomplishment  of  Buddhist  ceremonial,  in  a  Buddhist 
temple ! 

A  detailed  account  is  given  of  the  funeral  by  an 
American  lady,  Miss  Margaret  Emerson.  She  arrived  in 
Japan  imbued  with  an  intense  admiration  for  Hearn's 
writings;  and  made  every  endeavour  to  meet  him  or  hear 
him  lecture,  when  one  morning  she  saw  his  death  an 
nounced  in  a  Yokohama  paper,  accompanied  by  a  brief 
notice  stating  that  the  funeral  procession  would  start  from 
his  residence,  266,  Nishi  Okubo,  at  half-past  one  on  Sep 
tember  29th,  and  would  proceed  to  the  Jitom  Kobduera 
Temple  in  Ichigaya,  where  the  Buddhist  service  was  to  be 
held. 

It  was  one  of  those  luminous  Japanese  days  that  had 
so  often  inspired  the  little  artist's  pen.  Not  even  the 
filament  of  a  cloud  veiled  the  pale  azure  of  the  sky.  Only 
the  solitary  cone  of  Fuji-yama  stood  out,  a  "ghostly  ap 
parition"  between  land  and  sea.  Everywhere  was  life, 
and  hope,  and  joy;  the  air  full  of  the  voices  and  laughter 
of  little  children,  flying  kites  or  playing  with  their  balls, 
amidst  a  flutter  of  shadows  and  flicker  of  sunrays,  as  the 
tawdry  procession  filed  out  under  the  relentless  light  of  the 
afternoon  sun. 

He,  whose  idea  it  would  have  been  to  slip  out  of  life 
unheralded  and  unnoticed  was  carried  to  his  last  resting- 
place  preceded  by  a  priest  ringing  a  bell,  men  carrying 
poles,  from  which  hung  streamers  of  paper  gohei;  others 
bearing  lanterns  and  others  again  wreaths,  and  huge 
bouquets  of  asters  and  chrysanthemums,  while  two  boys 
in  rickshas  carried  little  cages  containing  birds  that  were 
to  be  released  on  the  grave,  symbols  of  the  soul  released 
from  its  earthly  prison.  Borne,  palanquin-wise,  upon  the 
shoulders  of  six  men,  of  the  caste  whose  office  it  is  to  dig 
graves  and  assist  at  funerals,  was  the  coffin,  containing 
what  had  been  the  earthly  envelope  of  that  marvellous  com- 

311 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

bination  of  good  and  evil  tendencies,  the  soul  of  Lafcadio 
Hearn. 

While  the  temple  bell  tolled  with  muffled  beat,  the  pro 
cession  filed  into  the  old  Temple  of  Jitom  Kobduera.  The 
mourners  divided  into  two  groups,  Hearn 's  wife,  who, 
robed  in  white,  had  followed  with  her  little  daughter  in 
a  ricksha,  entering  by  the  left  wing  of  the  temple,  while 
the  male  chief  mourners,  consisting  of  Kazuo,  Lafcadio 's 
eldest  son,  Tanabe  (one  of  his  former  students  at  Matsue), 
and  several  university  professors,  went  to  the  right. 

Then  followed  all  the  elaborate  ceremonial  of  the 
Buddhist  burial  service.  The  eight  Buddhist  priests 
dressed  in  magnificent  vestments  chanted  the  chant  of  the 
Chapter  of  Kwannon  in  the  Hokkekyo. 

After  the  addresses  to  the  soul  of  the  dead,  the  chief 
mourner  rose  and  led  forward  Hearn 's  eldest  son;  to 
gether  they  knelt  before  the  hearse,  touching  their  fore 
heads  to  the  ground,  and  placed  some  grains  of  incense 
upon  the  little  brazier  burning  between  the  candles.  The 
wife,  when  they  had  retired,  stepped  forward,  leading  a 
little  boy  of  seven,  in  a  sailor  suit  with  brass  buttons  and 
white  braid.  She  also  unwrapped  some  grains  of  incense 
from  some  tissue  paper,  and  placed  them  upon  the  brazier. 
Then,  after  a  considerable  amount  of  bowing  and  chant 
ing,  the  ceremony  ended  and  the  congregation  left  the 
church. 

Outside  it  was  intimated  to  the  assembled  congregation 
that  the  body  would  be  taken  next  day  to  the  Zoshigaya 
Temple  for  the  final  rites  of  cremation  in  the  presence  of 
the  family.  Then  the  university  students  were  dismissed 
by  the  professors  with  a  few  words,  and  the  ceremony  of 
the  day  was  at  an  end. 


312 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
VISIT  TO   JAPAN 

"Every  dwelling  in  which  a  thinker  lives  certainly  acquires  a  sort 
of  soul.  There  are  Lares  and  Penates  more  subtle  than  those  of  the 
antique  world;  these  make  the  peace  and  rest  of  a  home." 

ON  the  16th  March,  1909,  early  in  the  morning,  Mrs. 
Atkinson,  Miss  Atkinson  and  myself,  left  Kobe,  reaching 
Yokohama  late  in  the  evening.  Mrs.  Atkinson,  who  had 
written  from  Kobe  to  her  half -sister-in-law,  announcing 
our  arrival  in  Japan,  expected  to  find  a  letter  from 
Nishi  Okubo  awaiting  us  at  the  Grand  Hotel.  She  had  not 
made  allowance  for  the  red  tape — the  bales  of  red  tape 
— that  surround  social  as  well  as  official  transactions  in 
Japan. 

Before  we  left  Kobe,  Mr.  Robert  Young  had  given  us 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mr.  "W.  B.  Mason,  Professor 
Basil  Hall  Chamberlain's  coadjutor  in  the  editing  of  Mur 
ray's  "Handbook  to  Japan,"  late  of  the  Imperial  Depart 
ment  of  Communications,  also  custodian  of  the  Club  library 
at  Yokohama,  and  a  person,  we  were  told,  to  whom  every 
one  had  recourse  in  a  difficulty.  He  cast  sidelights  on 
the  probable  reasons  for  delay  in  the  answer  to  Mrs.  At 
kinson's  letter. 

To  begin  with,  Tokyo  covers  an  area  of  one  hundred 
square  miles,  and,  though  ostensibly  modelled  on  English 
lines,  the  Japanese  postal  system  leaves  much  to  be  de 
sired,  especially  in  dealing  with  English  letters ;  in  finding 
fault  on  this  score,  I  wonder  what  a  London  postman 
would  do  with  letters  addressed  in  Japanese?  Mr.  Mason 

313 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

also  reminded  us  that  Mrs.  Koizumi  did  not  understand 
a  word  of  English;  she  must  have  recourse  to  an  inter 
preter  before  communicating  with  her  Irish  sister-in-law, 
but,  above  all,  in  accounting  for  delay,  Mrs.  Atkinson  had 
addressed  her  letter  to  "Mrs.  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  a  name 
by  which  no  properly  constituted  Japanese  postman  would 
find  himself  justified  in  recognising  Hearn's  widow.  By 
nationalising  himself  a  Japanese,  Hearn's  identity,  so  far 
as  his  occidental  inheritance  went,  had  vanished  forever. 
He  and  his  wife  were  only  known  at  Tokyo  as  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Koizumi. 

Mr.  Mason,  like  many  others  whom  we  met,  was  full 
of  anecdotes  about  Lafcadio,  his  oddities,  his  caprices.  In 
days  gone  by  he  had  been  extremely  intimate  with  him, 
but  Hearn  had  put  a  sudden  end  to  the  friendship;  Mr. 
Mason  never  knew  exactly  why,  but  imagined  it  was  in 
consequence  of  his  neglecting  to  take  off  his  footgear  and 
put  on  sandals  one  day  before  entering  Hearn's  house. 
In  passing  judgment  on  Hearn  for  these  sudden  ruptures 
with  friends,  because  of  their  lapses  from  the  punctilio 
of  Japanese  tradition,  it  is  well  to  remember  that  his  wife 
came  of  the  ancient  Izumo  stock,  and  was  educated  accord 
ing  to  Japanese  rules;  a  dusty  or  muddy  boot  placed  on 
her  cream-white  tatami  was  almost  an  indignity.  Hearn 
deeply  resented  any  slight  shown  to  her,  and,  from  the 
moment  he  married,  observed  all  old  habits  and  customs, 
and  insisted  on  his  visitors  doing  the  same. 

The  expression  in  Japan  for  an  unceremonious  or  bad- 
mannered  person  is  "another  than  expected  person";  the 
definition  is  delightfully  Japanese;  it  explains  the  tradi 
tions  of  the  race:  no  one  ever  does  anything  unexpected 
— all  is  arranged  by  rule  and  order ;  in  any  other  civilised 
country,  considering  the  circumstances,  Mrs.  Atkinson 
would  have  taken  a  Tokaido  train  to  Tokyo,  and  from  the 
Shimbasi  station  gone  immediately  in  a  jinrikisha  to  see 

314 


KAZUO  (HEARN'S  SON,  AGED  ABOUT  SEVENTEEN). 


VISIT  TO  JAPAN 

her  sister-in-law;  the  two  ladies  would  have  fallen  into 
one  another's  arms,  and  a  close  intimacy  would  have  been 
begun.  Not  so  in  Japan. 

"Patience  is  a  virtue  inculcated  by  life  in  the  Far 
East,"  said  Mr.  Mason.  "Come  out  with  me,  I  will  show 
you  some  of  the  most  beautiful  sights  in  the  world,  and 
in  course  of  time  either  Mrs.  Koizumi  or  a  letter  will  turn 
up." 

Anxious  not  to  offend  the  little  Japanese  lady  by  any 
proceeding  not  in  consonance  with  the  social  etiquette  of 
her  country,  we  took  Mr.  Mason's  advice. 

I  had  been  reading  "Out  of  the  East,"  and  pleaded  that 
out  first  pilgrimage  might  be  to  the  Jizo-Do  Temple,  scene 
of  Laf cadio  Hearn  's  interview  with  the  old  Buddhist  priest. 

Up  a  hill  above  Yokohama  we  climbed,  until  we  reached 
the  summit,  where,  embosomed  in  fairy-like  clouds  of  plum- 
tree  blossom,  a  carpet  of  pink-and-white  petals  round  its 
august  feet,  stood  an  ancient  shrine. 

From  the  platform  in  front  of  the  great  bronze  bell, 
hanging  in  a  pagoda-like  tower,  we  looked  out  over  the 
city  of  Yokohama.  Again  I  experienced  what  I  had  felt 
coming  up  the  Inland  Sea,  an  impression,  common  to 
almost  every  one  who  visits  Japan,  that  I  was  gazing  on 
a  dream  world,  lying  outside  everyday  experience,  a  world 
"having  a  special  sun  and  tinted  atmosphere  of  its  own," 
arched  by  a  sky  of  magic  light,  the  very  sky  of  Buddha. 
Down  the  hillside  a  cascade  of  clustering  eaves  and  quaint 
curved  tiled  roofs,  surrounded  by  gardens,  descended  to 
the  very  edge  of  the  sapphire  sea.  Behind,  in  the  distance, 
rose  a  range  of  dark-blue  hills,  and  enormously  above  the 
line  of  them  all,  through  the  vapoury  mist,  gleamed  one 
solitary  snow-capped  cone;  we  knew  its  familiar  outline 
on  Japanese  fans  and  screens,  in  Japanese  picture-books 
— the  sacred,  the  matchless  mountain — Fuji-no-yama. 

There,  in  the  stillness  of  the  Japanese  afternoon,  we  sum- 

315 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

moned  from  out  the  twenty  years  that  had  elapsed  since 
Hearn's  visit,  a  vision  of  the  old  priest,  seated,  brush  in 
hand,  writing  one  of  the  three  hundred  volumes  of  the 
history  of  the  religions  of  Japan,  of  the  interpreter  Akira, 
and  of  the  little  Celtic  dreamer  seated  Buddha-wise  be 
tween  them,  while,  mingled  with  the  sound  of  the  purring 
of  the  cat,  and  the  song  of  the  uguisu  from  the  plum-tree 
grove,  we  heard  the  murmur  of  their  voices. 

"That  which  we  are,  in  the  consequence  of  that  which 
we  have  been.  .  .  .  Every  act  contains  both  merit 
and  demerit,  just  as  even  the  best  painting  has  defects  and 
excellence.  But  when  the  sum  of  good  in  any  action  ex 
ceeds  the  sum  of  evil,  just  as  in  a  good  painting  the  merits 
outweigh  the  faults,  then  the  result  is  progress.  And 
gradually  by  such  progress  will  all  evil  be  eliminated. 
.  .  .  They  who  by  self-mastery  reach  such  conditions 
of  temporary  happiness,  have  gained  spiritual  force  also, 
and  some  knowledge  of  truth.  Their  strength  to  conquer 
themselves  increases  more  and  more  with  every  triumph, 
until  they  reach  at  last  that  world  of  Apparitional  Birth, 
in  which  the  lower  forms  of  temptation  have  no  existence. ' ' 

Wisely  had  Mr.  Mason  counselled  patience.  The  next 
afternoon,  while  seated  at  tea-time  in  the  hall  of  the  Grand 
Hotel,  we  saw  two  figures  pass  through  the  swing  door  at 
the  entrance  .  .  .  one  was  a  Japanese  lady,  dressed 
in  the  national  Japanese  costume — a  kimono  of  dark  iron- 
grey  silk — the  other,  a  tall,  slim,  near-sighted  youth  of 
seventeen  dressed  also  in  kimono,  wearing  a  peaked  col 
legiate  cloth  cap  and  sandals  on  his  feet.  The  pair  hesi 
tated  at  the  doorway,  and  after  questioning  one  of  the 
hotel  clerks,  came  towards  us  under  his  guidance. 

Mrs.  Atkinson  realised  at  once  that  this  was  her  Japanese 
half-sister-in-law.  The  nearest  relations  never  embrace 
in  Japan,  but  the  two  ladies  saluted  one  another  with  pro 
found  bows  and  smiles. 

316 


VISIT  TO  JAPAN 

Mrs.  Koizumi  could  never  have  been,  even  according  to 
Japanese  ideas,  good-looking;  it  was  difficult  to  reconcile 
this  subdued,  sad-faced,  Quaker-like  person  with  Hearn's 
description  written  to  Ellwood  Hendrik,  of  the  little  lady 
whom  he  dressed  up  like  a  queen,  and  who  nourished 
dreams  of  "beautiful  things  to  be  bought  for  the  adorn 
ment  of  her  person."  But  the  face  had  a  pleasing  ex 
pression  of  gentle,  sensible  honesty.  Had  it  not  been  for 
the  arched  eyebrows,  oblique  eyes  and  elaborate  coiffure 
— the  usual  erection  worn  by  her  country-women — she 
might  have  been  a  dignified,  well-mannered  housekeeper 
in  a  large  English  establishment. 

The  only  exception  to  the  strict  nationality  of  her  cos 
tume  was  a  shabby,  carelessly-folded,  American  silk  um 
brella  that  she  carried,  instead  of  the  dainty  contrivance 
of  oil  paper  and  bamboo  so  generally  used  and  so  typical 
of  Japan.  There  was  something  vaguely  and  indefinably 
suggestive,  like  the  revival  of  a  sensation,  a  shadowing  of 
memory,  blended  in  the  associations  of  that  umbrella;  we 
felt  certain  it  had  been  used  by  her  " August  One"  in  his 
tl  honourable "  journeyings  to  and  from  the  Imperial  Uni 
versity. 

After  having  placed  this  precious  possession,  with  care 
ful  precision,  leaning  against  a  chair,  she  turned  to  in 
troduce  her  son  to  his  aunt.  He  was  already  bowing  pro 
foundly  over  Dorothy  Atkinson's  hand  in  the  background. 

At  first  the  lad  had  given  the  impression  of  being  a 
Japanese,  but  as  he  laughed  and  talked  with  his  beautiful 
cousin,  you  recognised  another  race;  no  child  of  Nippon 
was  this,  the  fairy  folk  had  stolen  a  Celtic  changeling  and 
put  him  into  their  garb;  but  he  was  not  one  of  them,  he 
was  an  Irishman  and  a  Hearn,  bearing  a  striking  resem 
blance  to  Carleton  Atkinson,  Dorothy's  brother.  The 
same  gentle  manner,  soft  voice,  and  near-sighted  eyes, 
obliging  the  wearing  of  strong  glasses.  I  remembered  his 

317 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

father's  words:  "The  eldest  is  almost  of  another  race, 
with  brown  hair  and  eyes  of  the  fairy  colour,  and  a 
tendency  to  pronounce  with  a  queer  little  Irish  accent  the 
words  of  old  English  poems  which  he  has  to  learn  by 
heart/ ' 

Then,  as  the  thought  passed  through  one's  mind  of  his 
extraordinary  likeness  to  his  Irish  relations,  an  impassive, 
Buddha-like,  Japanese  expression — a  mask  of  reserve  as  it 
were — fell  like  a  curtain  over  his  face, — he  was  Japanese 
again. 

He  spoke  English  slowly  and  haltingly;  to  me  it  was 
incomprehensible;  his  cousin,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  to 
understand  every  word,  as  if  a  sort  of  freemasonry  existed 
between  them.  There  was  something  pathetic  in  watching 
his  earnest  endeavours  to  make  his  occidental  relative 
understand  what  he  wished  to  say. 

It  is  a  myth  that  Mrs.  Koizumi  talks  English;  her 
"  Reminiscences "  have  been  taken  down  and  translated  by 
interpreters;  principally  by  the  Japanese  poet  Yone 
Noguchi.  If  she  ever  knew  any,  it  has  been  entirely  for 
gotten.  Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  the  intervention  of 
Mr.  Mason,  who  is  a  first-rate  Japanese  scholar,  we  should 
have  found  ourselves  considerably  embarrassed.  One 
thing,  however,  she  certainly  possessed — that  most  desirable 
thing  in  woman,  to  which  her  husband  had  been  so  sensi 
tive — a  soft  and  musical  voice. 

Mrs.  Atkinson  had  brought  some  gifts  for  the  four  chil 
dren  from  England,  and  an  old-fashioned  gold  locket,  which 
had  belonged  to  Lafcadio's  father,  for  her  sister-in-law. 
She  tried  playfully  to  pass  the  chain  round  Mrs.  Koizumi's 
neck,  but  the  little  lady  crossed  her  hands  on  her  bosom 
and  declined  persistently  to  allow  her  to  do  so.  Mr. 
Mason  then  told  us  that  it  was  against  all  the  rules  of 
decorum  for  a  Japanese  woman  to  wear  any  article  of 
jewellery. 

318 


CARLETON  ATKINSON. 


VISIT  TO  JAPAN 

Towards  the  end  of  her  visit,  which  lasted  an  intermi 
nable  time — Japanese  visits  usually  do — Mrs.  Koizumi 
gave  us  an  invitation  for  the  following  Sunday  to  come 
to  dinner  at  266,  Nishi  Okubo,  and  promised  that  her  son 
Kazuo  should  come  to  fetch  us.  Needless  to  say,  this 
invitation  was  the  acme  of  our  hopes ;  we  accepted  eagerly, 
and,  to  save  Kazuo  the  trouble  of  coming  to  Yokohama, 
we  determined  to  flit  the  next  day,  Saturday,  from  Yoko 
hama  to  Tokyo. 

The  Metropole,  or,  as  Hearn  dubbed  it,  "The  Palace 
of  "Woe, ' '  was  the  hotel  we  selected.  Our  dinner  that  night 
was  eaten  in  the  room  where  Professor  Foxwell,  in  his 
delightful  "Reminiscences  of  Lafcadio  Hearn,"  describes 
him  leaping  from  the  table,  darting  to  the  window,  and 
making  for  the  garden,  on  catching  sight  of  a  young  lady 
tourist,  a  friend  of  Professor  Foxwell's,  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  room. 

Next  morning,  as  arranged,  Kazuo  Koizumi  arrived  to 
escort  us  to  Nishi  Okubo.  That  particular  Sunday  was 
the  anniversary  of  the  Festival  of  the  Spring  Equinox 
(Shunki  Korei-sai).  There  is  an  autumn  and  a  spring 
equinox  festival  when  days  and  nights  are  equal.  The 
pullulating  population  of  Tokyo  seemed  to  have  emptied 
itself,  like  a  rabbit  warren,  into  the  streets.  The  ladies 
were  in  their  best  kimonos,  their  hair  elaborately  dressed, 
set  round  with  pins,  and  the  men,  some  of  them  bare 
headed,  Japanese  fashion,  in  Japanese  garb,  others  wearing 
bowler  hats,  others  again  dressed  in  ill-fitting  American 
clothes,  carrying  American  umbrellas.  These  umbrellas, 
I  think,  are  one  of  the  features  that  you  resent  most  in 
the  occidentalising  of  the  Japanese  man  and  woman.  A 
pretty  musume's  ivory-coloured  oval  face  against  the 
cream-colour  background  of  an  oiled-paper  Japanese  um 
brella,  makes  a  delightful  picture,  and  nothing  can  be 
imagined  more  fantastically  picturesque  than  a  Tokyo 

319 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

street  in  brilliant  sunshine,  or  under  a  flurry  of  rain  when 
hundreds  of  these  ineffective  shelters  with  their  quaint 
designs  of  chrysanthemums,  cherry-blossom,  or  wisteria, 
are  suddenly  opened.  Alas !  in  ten  years  '  time,  like  many 
other  quaint  and  beautiful  Japanese  productions,  these 
oil-paper  umbrellas  will  have  passed  away  into  the  region 
of  faintly-remembered  things. 

The  gentle  decorous  politeness  of  the  crowd  was  remarka 
ble.  If  any  of  the  men  had  a  little  too  much  sake  on 
board,  their  tipsiness  was  only  betrayed  by  their  aimlessly 
happy,  smiling  expression.  Sometimes,  indeed,  it  could 
only  be  guessed  at  by  the  gentle  sway  of  a  couple  walking 
arm-in-arm  down  the  street.  In  the  luke-warm  air  was  a 
mingling  of  odours  peculiar  to  Japan,  smells  of  sake, 
smells  of  seaweed  soup,  smells  of  daikon  (the  strong  native 
radish),  and,  dominating  all,  a  sweet,  thick,  heavy  scent 
of  incense  that  floated  out  from  the  shadows  behind  the 
temple  doors,  while  above  all  was  a  speckless  azure  sky 
arching  this  fantastical  world.  The  city  lay  glorified  in  a 
joy  of  sunshine. 

Kazuo  Koizumi  had  told  us  that  it  was  only  a  short 
walk  to  the  trams,  and  that  by  them  we  could  get  close 
to  Nishi  Okubo.  It  seemed  to  us  an  interminable  journey 
as  we  followed  the  tall,  slim  figure  over  bridges,  down  miles 
of  paved  streets,  and  at  last,  when  we  did  reach  the 
trams,  we  found  them  full  to  overflowing,  not  only  with 
men  and  women,  but  with  babies,  babies  tumbling,  rolling, 
laughing  on  the  floor,  on  their  mothers'  laps,  on  their 
mothers'  backs;  there  was  certainly  no  doubt  of  Japan 
having  that  most  valuable  asset  to  a  fighting  country,  male 
children,  and  that  most  necessary  adjunct,  female  children ; 
nowhere  was  there  an  ill-fed,  ill-cared  for  one  to  be  seen. 

Finding  the  trams  impossible,  we  induced  Kazuo  to  hail 
jinrikishas,  and  still  on  and  on  for  miles,  behind  our  fleet- 
footed  kuruma  men,  did  our  journey  last,  through  the 

320 


VISIT  TO  JAPAN 

quarter  of  the  foreign  legations,  past  government  offices 
and  military  stations,  beside  the  moat  surrounding  the 
mikado's  palace,  with  its  grass  slopes  and  pine-clad  fosse, 
down  declivities  and  up  others,  through  endless  lanes, 
bordered  by  one-storeyed  houses  standing  in  shrubberies 
behind  bamboo  fences.  At  last  Kazuo  Koizumi,  whose 
Jcuruma  led  the  way,  halted  before  a  small  gateway,  sur 
mounted  by  a  lamp  in  an  iron  stand,  stamped,  as  we  un 
derstood  afterwards,  with  Hearn's  monogram  in  Japanese 
ideographs.  Passing  through,  we  found  ourselves  oppo 
site  the  entrance  of  a  lightly-built  two-story  house,  rather 
resembling  a  suburban  bungalow  in  England.  Directly 
we  entered  we  were  transported  into  a  different  era.  Here 
no  modern  Japan  was  visible.  On  the  threshold,  waiting 
to  receive  us,  was  an  "august  residence  maid,"  kneeling, 
palms  extended  on  the  floor.  I  glanced  at  the  ebon  head 
touching  the  matting,  and  wondered  if  it  belonged  to 
Hana,  the  unsympathetic  Hana  who  had  let  the  grass-lark 
die.  Beside  her  was  Setsu-ko,  Hearn's  youngest  child,  in 
a  brilliantly-coloured  kimono,  while  on  the  step  above 
stood  Professor  Tanabe,  who  had  been  one  of  Hearn's 
pupils  at  Matsue,  now  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Koizumi 
family,  living  near  by,  and  acting  occasionally  as  inter 
preter  for  Mrs.  Hearn.  What  a  picture — as  an  eastern 
philosopher,  for  instance — he  would  have  made  for  Moroni 
or  Velasquez,  with  the  delicate  grey  and  cream  background 
of  the  Japanese  tatami  and  paper  slwji.  He  had  the  clear 
olive  complexion  and  intellectually-spiritualised  expression, 
result  of  the  discipline  and  thought  enjoined  by  his  far 
eastern  religion.  He  looked  tall  as  he  stood  above  us,  the 
close  folds  of  his  black  silk  college  gown  descending  to  his 
feet.  With  all  the  courtesy  and  dignity  of  a  Spanish 
Hidalgo  did  he  receive  us,  holding  out  a  slim,  delicately- 
modelled  hand,  and  bidding  us  welcome  in  our  native 
tongue,  in  a  voice  harmonious  and  clear  as  one  of  his 

321 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

own  temple  bells.  To  take  off  our  foot-gear  in  so  dignified 
a  presence,  and  put  on  the  rice  sandals  offered  us  by  the 
maid,  was  trying;  for  the  little  girl  had  raised  her  fore 
head  from  the  matting,  and,  with  hands  on  knees,  with 
many  bows,  had  first  of  all  surveyed  us  sideways  like  a 
bird,  and  then,  gently  approaching  with  deferential  liftings 
of  the  eyes  and  deprecating  bows,  she  took  a  pair  of  sandals 
from  a  row  that  stood  close  by,  helped  us  to  take  off  our 
boots  and  put  on  the  sandals.  We  then  remarked  that 
she  was  not  at  all  unsympathetic-looking,  but  a  nice, 
chubby,  rosy-faced  handmaiden.  We  hoped  devoutly  we 
had  no  holes  in  our  stockings,  and  after  a  considerable 
amount  of  awkward  fumbling,  got  through  the  ordeal  in 
time  to  curtsey  and  bow  to  Mrs.  Koizumi,  who  appeared 
beside  Professor  Tanabe  on  the  step  above  us,  softly  invit 
ing  us  to  ' l  honourably  deign  to  enter  her  unworthy  abode. ' ' 

The  best  rooms  in  a  Japanese  house  are  always  to  the 
rear,  and  so  arranged  as  to  overlook  the  garden.  We 
followed  our  hostess  to  the  engawa  (verandah)  leading  to 
the  guest-room  next  to  what  had  been  Hearn's  study.  The 
fusima  or  paper  screens  separating  the  two  rooms  were 
pushed  back  in  their  grooves,  we  passed  through  the  open 
ing  and  stood  within  what  they  called  the  "Buddha- 
room."  At  first  I  thought  it  was  so  named  because  of  a 
bronze  figure  of  Buddha,  standing  on  a  lotus  flower,  with 
hand  upraised  in  exhortation,  on  the  top  of  the  bookcase, 
but  afterwards  ascertained  that  it  was  because  of  the 
Butsudan,  or  family  shrine,  that  occupied  an  alcove  in  the 
corner. 

Every  one  after  death  is  supposed  to  become  a  Buddha; 
this  was  the  spirit  chamber  where  the  memory  of  the  august 
dead  was  worshipped. 

At  last  I  stood  where  ate,  slept,  thought  and  wrote  (for 
bedroom  and  sitting-room  are  identical  in  Japan)  the 
author  of  "Kokoro,"  " Japan,  an  Interpretation,"  and  so 

322 


VISIT  TO  JAPAN 

many  other  wonderful  books,  and  I  felt  as  I  looked  at 
that  room  of  Lafcadio  Hearn's  that  the  dead  were  more 
alive  than  the  quick.  The  walls — or  rather  the  paper 
panels  and  wood  laths  that  did  duty  for  walls — were 
haunted  with  memories. 

I  pictured  the  odd  little  figure — dressed  in  the  kimono 
given  him  by  Otani  embroidered  in  characters  of  letters 
or  poems — "Surely  just  the  kind  of  texture  which  a  man 
of  letters  ought  to  wear!" — with  the  prominent  eyes,  in 
tellectual  brow,  and  sensitive  mouth,  squatting  "in  the  an 
cient,  patient  manner"  on  his  zabuton — smoking  his 
kiseruj  or  standing  at  the  high  desk,  his  nose  close  to  the 
paper,  covering  sheets  and  sheets  with  his  delicate  hand 
writing,  every  now  and  then  turning  over  the  leaves  of 
the  quarto,  calf -bound,  American  edition  of  Webster's 
Dictionary  that  stood  on  a  stand  next  his  desk. 

There  was  an  atmosphere  of  daintiness,  of  refined  clean 
manners,  of  a  sense  of  beauty  and  purity  in  the  room; 
with  its  stillness,  almost  eerie  stillness,  offering  an  ar 
resting  contrast  to  the  multitudinous  rush  and  clamour  of 
the  city  outside — it  gave  an  impression  of  restfulness,  of 
calm,  almost  of  regeneration,  with  its  cool,  colourless,  stain 
less  matting  and  delicate  grey  walls,  lighted  by  the  clear 
light  of  the  Japanese  day  that  fell  beneath  the  verandah 
through  the  window  panels  that,  like  the  fusima,  ran  in 
grooves  on  the  garden  side  of  the  room.  I  understood  from 
Mrs.  Koizumi  that  when  Hearn  had  added  on  the  study 
and  guest-room  to  the  existing  house,  glass  had  been  sub 
stituted  for  paper  in  these  window  panels.  He,  who  had 
so  devoutly  hoped  years  before  that  glass  would  never 
replace  paper  in  the  window  panels  of  Japanese  houses! 
Not  only  that,  but  an  American  stove,  with  a  stove  pipe, 
had  occupied  the  corner  where  now  stands  the  Butsudan, 
contaminating  that  wonderful  Japanese  atmosphere  he 
had  raved  about,  that  "translucent,  crystalline  atmos- 

323 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

phere"  unsullied  by  the  faintest  breath  of  coal  smoke. 
These  hardy  folk  told  us  that  they  were  always  catching 
coughs  and  colds  when  they  had  the  stove  and  glass  win 
dows,  so  they  took  both  out,  and  put  back  the  paper  shoji 
and  the  charcoal  brazier. 

It  was  illuminating  indeed  to  see  many  western  innova 
tions  against  which  Hearn  had  railed  in  his  earlier  days 
in  Japan,  in  various  parts  of  his  study.  The  andon — 
tallow-candle — stuck  in  a  paper  shade — national  means  of 
lighting  a  room — had  apparently  been  discarded,  and  a 
Queen's  reading  lamp  stood  in  all  its  electro-plated  hide- 
ousness  on  a  little  table  in  the  corner.  On  another  was  an 
electric  bell  with  india-rubber  tube. 

Japanese  rooms  are  never  encumbered  by  ornament,  a 
single  kakemono,  or  piece  of  fine  lacquer  or  china  appear 
ing  for  a  few  days,  and  then  making  room  for  something 
else ;  but  here,  the  oriental  and  occidental  thought  and  life 
— that  Hearn  blended  so  deftly  in  his  work — joined  hands. 
Round  the  room  at  the  height  of  about  four  feet  from  the 
floor,  bookcases  were  placed,  filled  with  books,  English 
most  of  them — De  Quincey,  Herbert  Spencer,  Barrie,  were 
a  few  of  the  names  I  caught  a  glimpse  of;  against  the 
laths  separating  the  household  shrine  from  the  shelves 
near  the  Butsudan  rested  volumes  of  Browning  and 
Kipling. 

I  wondered  where  the  many  things  that  Hearn  must 
have  collected,  the  old  prints,  and  bronzes,  and  enamelled 
ware,  he  so  often  alluded  to,  had  been  put  away.  Above 
all,  where  was  the  photograph  of  the  ''Lady  of  a  Myriad 
Souls/'  and  the  one  of  Mitchell  McDonald  that  he  men 
tioned  as  hanging  on  the  ceiling? 

It  is  customary  in  Tokyo,  we  were  told  afterwards,  to 
warehouse  in  a  depository  or  "go-down"  (a  name  derived 
from  the  Malay  godong  given  to  the  fire-proof  storehouses 
in  the  open  ports  of  the  Far  East)  all  valuable  and  artistic 

324 


VISIT  TO  JAPAN 

objects;  the  idyllic  innocence  of  Tokyo  is  a  thing  of  the 
past;  thieving  is  rife;  it  is  well  also  to  protect  them  from 
fire,  earthquakes  and  floods. 

Above  the  bookcases  all  was  thoroughly  Japanese  in 
character;  the  ceiling  mostly  composed  of  unpainted  wood 
laths,  traversing  a  delicate  grey  ground. 

On  the  wall  opposite  the  guest-room  hung  a  kakemono 
or  scroll-picture  representing  a  river  running  quickly 
between  rocks.  "The  water  runs  clear  from  the  heights," 
was  the  translation  given  to  us  of  the  Japanese  ideographs 
in  the  corner — by  Professor  Tanabe.  It  had  been  a  present 
from  Kazuo  to  his  father. 

Two  of  the  younger  children  now  appeared,  the  third 
boy  Iwayo,  we  heard,  was  away,  visiting  some  of  the  ships 
in  the  harbour;  the  two  we  saw  were  Idaho,  the  second 
son,  and  Setsu-ko,  the  little  girl. 

Presently,  I  don't  quite  know  how,  it  was  intimated  that 
the  dinner-hour  had  arrived,  and  I  must  confess  that  the 
announcement  was  a  welcome  one.  Owing  to  our  wan 
derings  in  the  Tokyo  streets,  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
our  "  honourable  insides"  were  beginning  to  clamour  for 
sustenance  of  some  sort. 

Japanese  dinners  have  been  described  so  often  that  it 
is  unnecessary  to  go  into  all  the  details  of  the  one  of  which 
we  partook  at  Nishi  Okubo  that  Sunday  afternoon.  It 
was  served  in  the  guest-room  next  Hearn's  study,  and 
lasted  well  over  an  hour.  To  me  it  was  exasperating  be 
yond  measure.  My  impression  is  that  the  Japanese  delight 
in  discomfort.  They  own  a  country  in  which  any  one 
could  be  happy.  A  climate  very  much  like  our  own,  with 
a  dash  of  warmth  and  more  sunshine  than  we  can  boast, 
a  climate  where  anything  grows  and  flourishes  and  an  at 
mosphere  clear  as  crystal;  instead  of  enjoying  it  and  ex 
panding  to  the  delightful  circumstances  surrounding  them, 
they  set  to  work  to  make  themselves  uncomfortable  in  what 

325 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

seemed  to  me  such  an  irritating  and  futile  way.  That 
any  sane  people  should  eat  a  succession  of  horrible  con 
coctions  made  up  of  raw  fish,  lotus  roots,  bamboo  shoots, 
and  sweets  that  tasted  of  Pears'  soap,  whisked  into  a  lather, 
with  a  little  sugar  added  as  an  afterthought,  eaten  Japa 
nese  fashion,  was  worse  than  the  judgment  passed  on 
Nebuchadnezzar,  and  with  the  beasts  of  the  field  Nebu 
chadnezzar,  at  least,  had  no  appearances  to  keep  up,  whereas 
we  had  to  respond  to  a  courtesy  that  was  agonising  in  the 
exquisiteness  of  its  delicacy. 

The  very  dainty  manner  in  which  it  was  all  served,  in 
small  porcelain  dishes,  on  lacquer  trays,  with  little  paper 
napkins,  the  size  of  postage  stamps  tied  with  gold  cord, 
seemed  to  emphasise  the  utter  inadequacy  of  the  food.  The? 
use  of  chop-sticks,  too,  was  not  one  of  the  least  of  our  trials, 
especially  as  we  were  told  that  if  we  broke  one  of  the  spili- 
kins  it  was  an  omen  of  death. 

I  really  must  say  that  I  sympathised  with  the  youth  of 
modern  Japan  when  I  heard  that  most  of  them  sit  on  chairs 
at  their  meals  and  now  use  knives  and  forks  like  ordinary 
people.  Mrs.  Koizumi,  indeed,  told  us  a  story  of  one  of 
Hearn's  Tokyo  pupils,  who,  on  making  a  call  on  the  pro 
fessor,  found  him  seated  orthodox  Japanese  fashion  with 
his  feet  under  him.  The  visitor,  accepting  the  cushion  and 
pipe  offered  him,  could  not  refuse  to  follow  suit.  Soon, 
however,  he  found  his  position  intolerable.  Hearn  smiled. 
"All  the  new  young  men  of  Japan  are  growing  into  the 
western  style,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  blame  you,  please  stretch 
your  legs  and  be  comfortable." 

After  dinner  we  returned  again  to  the  study.  A  wintry 
sunlight  fell  athwart  the  garden,  a  regular  Japanese  gar 
den  ;  to  the  left  was  a  bamboo-grove,  the  lanceolated  leaves 
whispering  in  the  winds.  On  the  right,  at  the  foot  of  two 
or  three  steps  that  led  to  a  higher  bank,  was  a  stone  lantern 
such  as  you  see  in  temple  grounds.  On  the  top  of  the  bank 

326 


VISIT  TO  JAPAN 

a  cryptomeria  threw  a  dark  shadow,  and  a  plum-tree  near 
it  was  a  mass  of  snowy  white  bloom. 

But  what  arrested  our  attention  was  a  small  flower-bed 
close  to  the  cedarn  pillars  of  the  verandah.  It  was  bor 
dered  with  evergreens,  and  within  we  could  see  some  daffo 
dils,  blue  hyacinths  and  primroses.  Mrs.  Koizumi  told  us 
that  the  bed  was  called  the  " English  garden,"  and  that 
Hearn  had  bought  the  bulbs  and  plants  and  made  the  gar 
dener  plant  them.  Somehow  that  little  flower-bed,  in  that 
far-away  country,  so  alien  to  his  own,  seemed  to  me  to  ex 
press  most  of  the  pathos  of  Lafcadio  Hearn 's  life. 

Here,  "overseas,  alone,"  he  had  put  in  those  "English 
posies,"  daffodils,  and  primroses,  and  hyacinths,  with  a 
longing  in  his  heart  to  smell  once  more  the  peat-laden  at 
mosphere  of  his  Irish  home,  to  see  the  daisy-strewn  mead 
ows  of  Tramore,  and  the  long  sunlit  slopes  of  Lough  Corrib. 

"Far  and  far  our  homes  are  set  round  the  Seven  Seas, 
Woe  for  us  if  we  forget,  we  that  hold  by  these, 
Unto  each  his  mother  beach,  bloom  and  bird  and  land — 
Masters  of  the  Seven  Seas,  Oh!  love  and  understand!" 


S27 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
SECOND   VISIT   TO   NISHI   OKUBO 

''Evil  winds  from  the  West  are  blowing  over  Horai;  and  the 
magical  atmosphere,  alas !  is  shrinking  away  before  them.  It  lingers 
now  in  patches  only,  and  bands,- — like  those  long  bright  bands  of 
cloud  that  trail  across  the  landscapes  of  Japanese  painters.  Under 
these  shreds  of  the  elfish  vapour  you  still  can  find  Horai — but  not 
elsewhere.  .  .  .  Remember  that  Horai  is  also  called  Shinkiro, 
which  signifies  Mirage, — the  Vision  of  the  Intangible.  And  the  Vision 
is  fading, — never  again  to  appear  save  in  pictures  and  poems  and 
dreams.  .  .  ." 

BEFORE  we  took  our  departure  Mrs.  Koizumi — through 
the  medium,  of  Professor  Tanabe — asked  us  again  to  honour 
her  "contemptible  abode"  on  Friday  the  26th,  the  day  of 
the  month  on  which  the  "August  One"  had  died,  when, 
therefore,  according  to  Japanese  custom,  the  incense  sticks 
and  the  lamp  were  lighted  before  the  Butsudan  and  a  re 
past  laid  out  in  honour  of  the  dead. 

That  day  also,  she  told  us,  Kazuo  would  conduct  us  to 
the  Zoshigaya  Cemetery  where  we  might  see  his  father's 
grave,  and  place  flowers  in  the  flower  cups  before  the  tomb 
stone.  The  invitation  was  gladly  accepted,  and  with  nu 
merous  bows  on  both  sides  (we  were  gradually  learning  how 
to  spend  five  minutes  over  each  hand-shake)  we  made  our 
return  journey  to  the  Metropole  Hotel. 

The  four  subsequent  days  were  spent  by  my  friends 
sight-seeing ;  they  went  to  Nikko,  an  expedition  which  took 
three  days,  and  the  feasibility  was  discussed  of  obtaining 
a  permit  from  the  British  Legation  to  visit  one  of  the 
mikado's  palaces.  But  I  felt  no  desire  to  see  the  abode  of  a 

328 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  NISHI  OKUBO 

enropeanised  mikado,  who  dressed  in  broadcloth,  sat  on  a 
chair  like  any  other  uninteresting  occidental  monarch  and 
submitted  to  the  dictates  of  a  constitution  framed  on  the 
pattern  of  the  Prussian  diet.  No  sight-seeing,  indeed,  had 
any  significance  for  me,  unless  it  was  connected  with  mem 
ories  of  a  half -blind,  eccentric  genius,  not  looked  upon  as 
of  any  account  except  by  a  small  circle  of  literary  en 
thusiasts. 

The  sphere  which  has  been  allotted  to  us  for  our  short 
span,  grants  us  in  its  daily  and  yearly  revolutions  few  sen 
sations  so  delightful  as  encountering  social  conditions,  ma 
terial  manifestations,  totally  different  to  anything  hitherto 
experienced  or  imagined.  The  impressions  of  those  en 
chanted  weeks  in  Japan,  however,  would  have  lost  half 
their  charm,  had  they  not  been  illumined  and  interpreted 
by  so  sympathetic  an  expositor  as  the  author  of  ' '  Glimpses 
of  Unfamiliar  Japan. "  To  me,  reading  his  books,  full  of 
admiration  for  his  genius,  the  ancient  parts  of  the  city,  the 
immemorial  temples,  the  gardens  still  untouched  by  Eu 
ropean  cultivation,  became  permeated  with  spiritual  and 
romantic  meaning.  A  Shirabyoshi  lurked  behind  every 
screen  in  the  Yoshiwara  quarter ;  the  ululation  of  the  dogs 
as  I  heard  them  across  the  district  of  Tsukiji  at  night, 
seemed  a  howl  in  which  all  the  primitive  cries  of  their  an 
cestors  were  concentrated;  every  cat  was  a  Tama  seeking 
her  dead  kittens,  while  the  songs  sung  by  the  children  as 
they  played  in  the  streets  gained  a  new  meaning  from 
Hearn's  translations.  I  even  wandered  in  the  ancient  parts 
of  the  city  to  see  if  I  could  find  a  Japanese  maiden  slipping 
the  eye  of  the  needle  over  the  point  of  the  thread,  instead 
of  putting  the  thread  through  the  eye  of  the  needle;  and 
there,  seated  on  zdbutons  in  a  little  shop,  as  large — or  rather 
as  small — as  life,  I  caught  them  in  the  act.  How  they 
laughed,  those  two  little  musumes,  when  they  saw  me  watch 
ing  them  so  intently.  I  felt  as  I  passed  along  that  I  had 

329 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

acquired  another  proof  of  the  "  surprising  otherness  of 
things"  to  insert  amongst  my  notes  on  this  extraordinary 
land  of  Nippon. 

I  fear  I  also  violated  every  rule  of  etiquette  by  visiting 
Japanese  houses  in  Tokyo  without  appointment,  where  I 
was  told  people  lived  who  had  known  Hearn  and  could 
give  me  information  concerning  him. 

Professor  Time,  of  the  Imperial  University,  was  one.  In 
her  "Reminiscences"  Mrs.  Hearn  says  that  an  hour  or  two 
before  he  died  Hearn  had  told  her  to  have  recourse  to  Pro 
fessor  Ume  in  any  difficulty,  and  I  thought  he  might  by 
chance  throw  some  light  on  Hearn 's  last  hours,  and  any 
dispositions  of  property  he  might  have  made  on  behalf  of 
his  widow  and  children. 

A  very  exquisite  house  was  the  professor's,  with  its  grey 
panels  and  cedar-wood  battens,  its  cream-coloured  mats,  its 
embroidered  screens,  and  azaleas  in  amber-crackled  pots. 
For  half-an-hour  I  waited  lying  on  a  zabuton  (I  had  not 
yet  learnt  to  kneel  Japanese  fashion),  the  intense  silence 
only  broken  by  the  gentle  pushing  backwards  and  forwards, 
at  intervals,  of  the  screen  that  separated  the  two  rooms, 
and  the  entrance  of  a  little  maid  bringing  tiny  cups  of 
green  tea  with  profuse  curtseys  and  bows.  When  the  gen 
tleman  of  the  house  did  appear,  he  behaved  in  a  manner 
so  profoundly  obsequious  that  I,  despite  a  slight  feeling  of 
irritation  at  the  time  I  had  been  kept  waiting,  and  the  vile- 
ness  of  the  tea  of  which  I  had  been  partaking,  grovelled  in 
self-abasement.  The  moment  I  attempted,  however,  to 
touch  upon  the  subject  of  Hearn,  it  was  as  if  a  drawer  with 
a  secret  spring  had  been  shut.  The  Japanese  are  too 
courteous  to  change  a  subject  abruptly;  they  slip  round 
it  with  a  dexterity  that  is  surprising.  When  I  endeavoured 
to  ascertain  what  communication  Hearn  had  held  with 
him,  and  if  he  had  named  executors  and  left  a  will — Koi 
zumi  San  was  fond  of  smoking  and  sometimes  honoured 

330 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  NISHI  OKUBO 

his  contemptible  abode  to  smoke  a  pipe — further  than  that 
he  knew  nothing.  The  same  experience  met  me  at  the  Im 
perial  University  (Teikoko  Daigaku),  where  I  was  auda 
cious  enough  to  penetrate  into  the  sanctum  where  the  heads 
of  the  college  congregated.  Needless  to  say  I  was  there  re 
ceived  also  with  studied  civility,  but  an  impenetrable  re 
serve  that  was  distinctly  awe-inspiring.  A  slim  youth 
was  summoned  and  told  to  conduct  me  into  the  university 
garden,  to  see  the  lake,  said  to  be  Hearn's  favourite  haunt 
between  lecture  hours.  There  was  no  undue  haste  ex 
hibited,  but  you  felt  that  the  endeavour  to  obtain  informa 
tion  about  the  former  English  professor  at  the  university 
was  not  viewed  with  any  sort  of  favour  by  his  colleagues. 

In  the  hotel  were  tourists  of  various  nationalities,  half 
of  whom  spent  their  time  laughing  at  the  ' '  odd  little  Japs, ' ' 
the  rest  were  divided  between  Murray  and  Baedeker,  and 
went  conscientiously  the  round  of  the  temples  mentioned 
in  their  classic  pages.  Two  American  girls  were  provided 
with  Hearn's  books,  and  had  made  up  their  minds  to  go 
off  on  an  extended  expedition,  visiting  Matsue  and  the 
fishing  villages  along  the  northern  coast. 

A  week  of  cloudless  weather  reigned  over  the  land,  and 
in  company  with  these  American  ladies  I  went  to  various 
places  of  interest,  clambering  up  flights  of  steps,  along 
avenues  leading  to  ancient  shrines,  under  the  dim  shadow  of 
centenarian  trees;  puzzling  over  the  incomprehensible  let 
tering  on  moss-grown  tombstones  and  sotobas,  gazing  at 
sculptures  of  Buddha  in  meditation,  Buddha  with  uplifted 
hand,  Buddha  asleep  in  the  heavenly  calm  of  Nirvana.  But 
all  these  smaller  Buddhas  sank  into  insignificance  before  the 
great  Buddha  of  Enoshima,  the  celebrated  Dai  Batsu. 
Somehow  as  I  stood  before  this  colossal  image  of  calm, 
backed  by  the  cloudless  eastern  sky,  a  memory  was  recalled 
of  the  granite  image  that  crouches  on  the  edge  of  the 
Sahara  Desert.  The  barbaric  Egyptian  had  invested  his 

331 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

conception  with  talons,  and  surrounded  it  with  sinister 
legends ;  but  the  same  strange  sense  of  infinity  broods  over 
both.  Solemn,  impenetrable,  amidst  the  upheavals  and  de 
cay  of  dynasties  and  people,  the  Sphinx  sits  patiently  gaz 
ing  into  futurity.  Here,  on  this  Japanese  coast,  tidal 
waves  overwhelm  towns,  earthquakes  and  fire  destroy  tem 
ples,  but  this  bronze  Buddha,  throned  on  his  lotus,  con 
templates  the  changes  and  chances  passing  around  him,  an 
immutable  smile  on  his  chiselled  lips.  Hitherto  I  had 
looked  upon  the  people  of  this  ancient  Nippon  as  utterly 
alien  in  thought  and  point  of  view,  but  here,  along  roads 
thousands  of  miles  apart,  from  out  the  centuries  of  time, 
oriental  and  occidental  met  and  forgathered.  No  one 
knows  if  a  master  mind  directed  the  hands  of  the  artificers 
that  hewed  out  the  great  Sphinx,  or  brazed  the  sheets  of 
bronze  to  shape  the  mighty  image  of  the  Dai  Batsu ;  rather 
do  they  seem  the  endeavour  of  a  people  to  incarnate  the 
idea  that  eternity  presents  to  man  the  vagueness  and  vast- 
ness  of  something  beyond  and  above  themselves.  The  hu 
manity  of  centuries  will  be  driven  as  the  sand  of  the  desert 
about  the  granite  base  of  the  Sahara's  Sphinx,  nations  will 
break  as  the  waves  of  the  sea  round  the  lotus-pedestal  of 
the  Kamakura  Buddha,  while,  deep  and  still  as  the  heavens 
themselves,  both  remain  to  tell  mankind  the  eternal  truth : 
ambition  and  success,  exultation  and  despair,  joy  and  grief 
will  pass  away  as  a  storm  passes  across  the  heavens,  bring 
ing  at  last  the  only  solution  futurity  offers  for  the  tumult 
and  suffering  of  human  life — infinite  calm,  infinite  rest. 

"Deep,  still,  and  luminous  as  the  ether"  .  .  .  was 
the  impression  made  on  Hearn  by  this  embodiment  of  the 
Buddhist  faith,  with  its  peace  profound  and  supreme  self- 
effacement.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  henceforth  he 
attempted  to  reconcile  the  great  oriental  religion  which  it 
represented,  with  every  scientific  principle  and  philoso 
phical  doctrine  to  which  he  had  hitherto  subscribed? 

332 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  NISHI  OKUBO 

It  was  bitterly  cold  on  the  afternoon  of  Friday  the 
26th ;  even  the  shelter  of  the  house  at  Nishi  Okubo  with  its 
shoji  was  comforting  after  our  long  jinrikisha  ride  in  a 
biting  wintry  wind.  We  had  come  prepared  to  find  a  cer 
tain  amount  of  sadness  and  solemnity  reigning  among  our 
hosts,  it  being  the  month-day  commemorative  of  the  August 
One 's  death.  But  we  were  greeted  with  the  same  laughter, 
bows,  genuflections  by  the  maid  and  little  Setsu-ko  as  on 
our  previous  visit,  while  on  the  upper  step  of  the  gentian 
(entrance-room)  with  extended  hands  and  smiling  welcome, 
stood  the  slim  figure  of  Tanabe.  At  first,  when  Mrs.  Hearn, 
talking  cheerily  and  gaily,  led  us  to  the  alcove  occupied  by 
the  family  shrine,  we  thought  for  a  moment  that  she  was 
moved  by  a  feeling  of  amusement  at  the  eccentric  little 
genius  to  whom  she  had  been  married.  Then  we  recalled 
various  incidents  of  our  travels  in  the  country,  and  Hearn 's 
essay  on  the  Japanese  smile :  ' l  To  present  always  the  most 
agreeable  face  possible,  is  a  rule  of  life  .  .  .  even 
though  the  heart  is  breaking,  it  is  a  social  duty  to  smile 
bravely/'  Taught  by  centuries  of  awful  discipline,  the 
habit  that  urges  people  to  hide  their  own  grief,  so  as  to 
spare  the  feelings  of  others,  struck  us,  when  we  mastered 
its  signification,  as  having  a  far  more  moving  and  pathetic 
effect  than  the  broken  tones  and  ready  tears  of  occidental 
widows  when  referring  to  the  departed. 

The  doors  of  the  Butsudan  were  set  wide  open,  and  on 
the  kamidan,  or  shelf  in  front  of  the  commemorative  tablet, 
stood  a  lighted  lamp  and  burning  incense  rods.  Tiny 
lacquered  bowls  containing  a  miniature  feast  of  his  favour 
ite  food,  and  vases  of  artificial  sprays  of  iris  were  placed 
side  by  side.  In  front  of  Hearn 's  photograph  stood  a  pen 
in  a  bronze  stand.  This  pen,  we  understood  from  Tanabe, 
was  one  of  three  that  had  been  given  to  him  by  Mitchell 
McDonald.  The  one  in  the  shrine  was  Kazuo's,  presented 
to  him  in  memory  of  his  father,  another  was  given  to  Mrs. 

333 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Atkinson  by  her  half -sister-in-law  that  Friday  afternoon, 
the  third  had  been  buried  with  the  writer  of  Japan,  be 
neath  his  tombstone  in  the  Zoshigaya  Cemetery. 

As  we  stood  in  the  study  opposite  the  Butsudan  the 
ghostly  charm,  the  emotional  poetry,  of  this  vague  and 
mysterious  soul-lore  that  regarded  the  dead  as  forming 
part  of  the  domestic  life,  conscious  still .  of  children  and 
kindred,  needing  the  consoling  efficacy  of  their  affection, 
crept  into  our  hearts  with  a  soothing  sense  of  satisfaction 
and  comfort. 

Tone  Noguchi,  in  an  account  he  gives  of  a  visit  to  266, 
Nishi  Okubo,  describes  the  spiritual  influence  of  Hearn 
permeating  the  house  as  though  he  were  still  living.  None 
of  the  children  ever  go  to  bed  without  saying,  '  *  Good-night, 
happy  dreams,  Papa  San/'  to  his  bas-relief  that  hangs  in 
the  study. 

Morning  and  evening  Mrs.  Koizumi,  a  daughter  of  the 
ancient  caste,  subscribing  to  Shinto  beliefs,  holds  com 
munion  with  the  august  spirit.  Now  she  murmured  a 
prayer  with  folded  hands,  and  then  turned  with  that  gen 
tle  courtesy  of  her  countrywomen,  and  made  a  motion  to 
us  to  occupy  the  three  chairs  placed  in  a  row  in  the  middle 
of  the  room.  Kneeling  down  in  front  of  us,  she  opened  a 
cupboard  under  the  shrine,  pulled  out  a  drawer  wherein 
lay  photographs,  pictures  and  manuscripts  that  had  be 
longed  to  her  husband,  a  photograph  of  Page  Baker  and 
his  daughter  Constance,  and  one  of  "friend  Krehbiel  with 
the  grey  Teutonic  eyes  and  curly  hair";  portaits  also  of 
Mrs.  Atkinson  and  her  children,  one  representing  her  eldest 
girl  and  boy  in  panniers  on  either  side  of  the  donkey  that 
had  created  so  much  amusement  in  the  establishment — a 
donkey  being  an  unknown  animal  in  Japan — when  it  ar 
rived  at  Kumamoto.  Another  represented  the  Atkinson 
barouche,  with  its  pair  of  horses,  coachman  and  groom. 
The  mikado's  state  equipage  was  the  only  conveyance,  these 

334 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  NISHI  OKUBO 

simple  people  told  us,  they  had  ever  seen  to  equal  its  splen 
dour. 

It  was  very  cold,  and  we  frigid  occidentals  sat  close  to 
the  apology  for  a  fire,  three  little  coals  of  smouldering 
charcoal  that  lay  in  the  brazier.  One  of  the  ends  of  my 
fur  stole  fell  into  the  ashes;  I  did  not  perceive  it  for  a 
moment  or  two,  until  the  smell  of  the  smouldering  fur 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  others.  Profound  silence 
descended  upon  the  company  as  they  watched  me  extin 
guish  it  with  a  certain  amount  of  difficulty.  I  am  certain 
they  thought  it  an  omen  of  some  sort — everything  amongst 
the  old-world  Japanese  is  looked  upon  as  a  good  or  bad 
omen. 

Setsu-ko  cuddled  up  to  her  aunt,  either  because  she  was 
cold,  or  because  her  mother — for  politeness '  sake,  I  im 
agine — told  her  that  Mrs.  Atkinson  was  her  father's  sister, 
and  that  she  was  to  look  upon  her  with  the  same  respect 
as  upon  her  father.  Kazuo,  Iwayo,  and  Idaho,  Hearn 's 
three  boys,  were  there,  all  of  them  fine  specimens  of  Eu 
rasians.  The  remembrance  recurred  to  me,  as  I  looked 
at  them,  of  Herbert  Spencer's  dictum  on  the  subject  of 
Anglo-Japanese  marriages.  What  would  Hearn  have  said 
if  he  had  known  that  the  "greatest  thinker  on  earth"  had 
committed  himself  to  the  statement,  in  an  interview  with 
the  Japanese  ambassador  in  1898,  of  the  extreme  inadvisa- 
bility  of  marriages  between  Englishmen  and  Japanese,  de 
claring  that  the  children  of  mixed  parentage  are  inferior, 
both  in  mental  endowments  and  health.  This  statement, 
we  may  say,  like  many  others  made  by  the  ' '  greatest  thinker 
on  earth,"  is  flatly  contradicted  by  fact.  There  are  thou 
sands  of  instances  in  the  Far  East  of  the  fine  race  produced 
by  the  mixture  of  occidental  and  Japanese,  especially,  in 
deed,  in  the  Koizumi  children,  who  are  unusually  healthy 
and  intelligent. 

What  a  singular  picture  this  family  of  Lafcadio  Hearn 

335 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

made  in  kimonos  and  sandals,  with  their  dark  complexions, 
Irish  eyes  and  Irish  smile — for  on  each  of  them  fate  has 
bestowed  a  gift  from  the  land  of  their  father's  birth — with 
the  background  of  bookcases  full  of  English  books,  the 
Buddhist  shrine  and  Japanese  kakemonos  and  ideographs. 

Some  of  the  bitterest  disillusionments  of  Hearn's  life 
would  most  likely  have  been  caused  by  his  own  children, 
had  he  lived  to  see  them  grow  up.  The  ship  of  his  eldest 
son's  life  that  he  spent  his  latter  days  " freighting  and 
supplying  for  its  voyage"  would  most  likely  have  gone 
down  on  the  sunk  rock  of  alien  blood  and  a  different  "  race- 
ghost." 

I  doubt  Miss  Setsu-ko  adapting  herself  to  her  father's 
ideal  of  unassertive  femininity,  or  contenting  herself  with 
being  merely  a  household  chattel,  subservient  to  mother 
and  father-in-law,  her  knowledge  of  the  world  circumscribed 
by  Kanbara's  "Greater  Knowledge  for  Women."  Was  it 
my  imagination,  or  did  I  see  a  slightly  impatient,  indul 
gent  acceptance  on  Kazuo's  part  of  the  little  rites  before 
the  Butsudan,  as  if  he  looked  upon  them  from  the  height 
of  his  modern  education  as  a  material  weakness? 

"The  Japanese  child  is  as  close  to  you  as  the  European 
child,"  says  Hearn,  "perhaps  closer  and  sweeter,  because 
infinitely  more  natural,  and  naturally  refined.  Cultivate 
his  mind,  and  the  more  it  is  cultivated  the  further  you 
push  him  from  you.  Then  the  race  difference  shows  itself. 
As  the  oriental  thinks  naturally  to  the  left,  where  we  think 
to  the  right,  the  more  you  cultivate  him  the  more  strongly 
will  he  think  in  the  opposite  direction  from  you.  Finis: 
sweetness,  sympathy. 

After  the  decoction,  colour  of  pale  whisky,  that  under 
the  name  of  "tea,"  accompanied  by  tiny  spongecake  (Kasu- 
tera) — his  Papa  San's  favourite  cake,  Kazuo  told  us — 
had  been  handed  round  and  partaken  of,  jinrikishas  were 
called,  for  our  expedition  to  the  Zoshigaya  Cemetery.  As 

336 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  NISHI  OKUBO 

we  stood  on  the  verandah  before  starting,  a  wintry  ray  of 
sunlight  fell  across  the  garden,  and  a  breeze  rustled  through 
the  bamboo-grove,  stirring  the  daffodils  and  hyacinths  in 
the  flower-bed  beneath.  It  was  the  last  sunlight  we  saw 
that  afternoon!  Over  the  dusty  Tokyo  parade-ground, 
where  little  men,  in  ill-fitting  khaki  uniforms,  were  going 
through  various  evolutions  on  horses  about  the  size  of 
"Welsh  ponies — along  by  rice  swamps,  through  narrow  lanes, 
bordered  by  evil-smelling,  sluggish  streams  of  water  (the 
Japanese  may  be  clean  inside  their  houses;  outside,  the 
streets  of  Tokyo  are  insanitary  to  an  unspeakable  extent), 
we  prosecuted  our  journey,  while  a  cold  wind  whistled 
round  us,  and  inky-black  clouds  heaped  themselves  on  the 
horizon.  "When  at  last  we  reached  the  cemetery  it  seemed 
to  have  but  little  charm  to  recommend  it.  Nothing  "was 
beautiful  with  a  beauty  of  exceeding  and  startling  queer- 
ness";  on  the  contrary,  rather  distressingly  European,  with 
straight  gravelled  paths  and  formal  plots,  enclosed  by  a 
box  edging  and  a  little  wicket  gate.  I  am  under  the  im 
pression  that  it  was  a  portion  of  the  Japanese  cemetery  al 
lotted  by  government  for  the  burial  of  "foreigners";  as 
no  information  was  volunteered  upon  the  subject,  how 
ever,  we  did  not  like  to  ask.  Walking  along  the  gravel 
path,  behind  Kazuo's  kimonoed  figure,  we  at  last  reached 
the  tomb,  distinguished  by  an  upright  granite  slab,  the 
same  shape  as  Hearn's  Ihai  in  the  Buddhist  shrine,  slightly 
rounded  at  the  top.  A  thick-set  circle  of  evergreens,  trans 
planted  from  the  Nishi  Okubo  garden  by  Mrs.  Koizumi's 
orders,  sheltered  it  behind.  On  one  of  the  stones  in  front 
of  the  slab  was  an  oval  cavity  filled  with  water ;  two  smaller 
round  holes  for  burning  incense  flanked  the  larger  one. 
On  either  side  were  bamboo  cups  in  which  flowers  were 
placed.  On  the  slab  was  the  inscription— 

"Shogaku  In-den  Jo-ge  Hachi-un  Ko  ji" — "Believing 
Man  Similar  to  Undefiled  Flowers  Blooming  like  Eight 

337 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Rising  Clouds,  who  dwells  in  Mansion  of  Right  Enlighten 
ment.  : ' 

The  light  was  fading  and  the  air  felt  bitterly  cold  as 
we  stood  beside  the  grave;  the  dark  clouds  that  had  lain 
in  ambush,  as  it  were,  in  the  background,  came  driven 
across  the  sky  by  gusts  of  wind,  swaying  the  thicket  of 
evergreens  and  the  tall  maple  and  plane-trees  beyond  the 
cemetery  boundary.  Snowflakes  began  to  fall,  and,  with 
the  suddenness  characterising  all  atmospheric  changes  in 
this  unstable  land,  a  thin  coating  covered  the  evergreens  in 
a  few  seconds,  and  lay  on  the  plum-blossom  in  the  bamboo 
holders,  placed  on  the  stone  platform  in  front  of  the  tomb 
stone.  The  "Snow  Woman"  (or  Yuki-Onna),  of  whom 
Hearn  wrote  his  strange  legend,  seemed  to  touch  our  hearts 
with  her  cold  hand,  as  we  turned  and  walked  away,  sad 
dened  by  the  thought  of  our  kinsman,  Lafcadio  Hearn, 
whose  name  was  on  so  many  English-speaking  lips  at  the 
moment,  buried — an  alien  amongst  aliens — in  a  Buddhist 
grave,  under  a  Japanese  name,  thousands  of  miles  away 
from  his  own  land,  his  own  people. 


338 


CONCLUSION 

LAFCADIO  HEARN'S  was  a  personality  and  genius  which 
people  will  always  judge  from  the  extreme  point  of  view 
in  either  direction.  Most  ordinary  common-sense  folk, 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  looked  upon  him  as  an 
odd,  irritable,  prejudiced  little  man,  distinctly  irreligious, 
and  rather  immoral;  but  the  elect  few,  admitted  to  his  in 
timacy,  recognised  the  tender  heart,  luminous  brain,  gen 
tlemanly  breeding,  and  human  morality  that  lay  hidden 
behind  the  disguise  of  Japanese  kimono  and  obi,  or  be 
neath  the  flannel  shirt,  reefer  coat,  and  extraordinary  head 
gear  of  his  New  Orleans  days.  As  to  his  genius,  the  Eng 
lish  public,  who  consistently  ignored  it  until  a  few  years  ago, 
are  now  inclined  to  blow  his  trumpet  too  lustily.  He  has 
recently  been  placed  by  critics  amongst  the  greatest  Eng 
lish  letter-writers;  declared  to  be  "a  supreme  prose-poet, " 
1  'one  of  those  whose  influence  will  last  through  the  ages' '; 
while  Miss  Bisland,  his  American  biographer,  has  no  hesi 
tation  in  locating  him  amongst  the  greater  fixed  stars  in 
the  literary  firmament. 

If  you  cherish  a  deep  sympathy  for  a  man's  intellect 
and  character,  the  worst  service  you  can  render  him  is  to 
veil  his  failings  and  qualities  behind  a  mist  of  eulogy. 
Lafcadio  Hearn,  with  his  shy,  sensitive  nature,  would  have 
shuddered  at  the  "plangent  phrases  and  canorous  orismol- 
ogy"  that  have  been  bestowed  upon  him  by  his  friends. 
Sometimes  the  idea  may  have  vaguely  come  to  him,  "like 
the  scent  of  a  perfume,  or  the  smell  of  a  spring  wind, ' '  that 
one  day  he  might  write  something  great ;  but,  on  the  whole, 
his  estimate  of  his  own  mental  powers  was  a  humble  one — 

339 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

"not  that  lie  was  modest  in  literary  matters,"  lie  says,  on 
the  contrary  satanically  proud,  but  like  an  honest  carpen 
ter  who  knows  his  trade,  he  could  recognise  bad  workman 
ship,  and  tell  his  customer :  ' i  That  isn  't  going  to  cost  you 
much,  because  the  work  is  bad.  See,  this  is  backed  with 
cheap  wood  underneath — it  looks  all  right,  only  because 
you  don't  know  how  we  patch  up  things." 

Although  in  our  day  Hearn's  work  has  an  original  and 
significant  appeal,  will  it  have  the  same  for  the  genera 
tions  following  us  in  the  century  on  which  we  have  en 
tered  ?  Each  period  brings  in  its  train  many  literary  inter 
ests  and  fashions,  which  the  next  rejects ;  but  for  Lafcadio 
Hearn's  work  there  is  no  authentic  equivalent,  no  sub 
stitute. 

He  had  the  extraordinary  advantage  of  seeing  a  phase 
of  civilisation  of  absorbing  interest,  and  found  himself 
well-equipped  to  interpret  it.  Evanescent  in  itself,  he  gave 
it  stability  and  form,  and,  what  is  more,  discerned  the  out 
ward  demonstration  of  a  deep-lying  essential  ideal — the 
ideal  that  has  influenced  mankind  so  often  through  the 
centuries:  oblivion  of  self,  the  curbing  of  natural  appe 
tites  as  a  means  to  more  elevated  happiness  and  well-being 
than  mere  pleasure  and  self-indulgence.  All  this  phase  in 
Japanese  life  he  has  recounted  in  exquisite  and  finished 
prose,  and  for  this  alone  will  be  prized  for  many  a  day  by 
cultured  readers  and  thinkers. 

Besides  his  Japanese  work,  his  delightful  letters  have 
achieved  a  unique  place  in  the  literary  world,  because  of 
the  variety  of  subject,  and  because  of  that  great  incentive 
to  literary  interest  and  sympathy — the  eternal  answering 
of  intellect  to  intellect,  of  feeling  to  feeling,  of  enthusiasm 
to  enthusiasm.  But  when  you  declare  him — as  Miss  Bis- 
land  does  in  the  Preface  to  the  last  volume  of  Letters — 
great  as  Jean  Jacques  Eousseau,  it  is  well  to  remember  what 
each  accomplished.  The  author  of  the  "Contrat  Social" 

340 


CONCLUSION 

gave  a  new  gospel  to  Europe,  and  initiated  a  social  and 
political  upheaval,  the  influence  of  which  has  lasted  to  our 
own  day.  Hearn  was  incapable  of  initiating  any  impor 
tant  movement,  he  never  entered  into  the  storm-swept  heart 
of  the  world,  outside  his  own  mental  horizon.  He  could 
interpret  moods  and  methods  of  belief  and  thought,  and 
pour  forth  a  lyrical  outburst  on  the  subject  of  a  national 
hymn,  but  his  deductions  from  significant  artistic  move 
ments  in  the  history  of  occidental  civilisation  were  neither 
broad  nor  unbiassed.  A  thing  was  so  because  he  so  viewed 
it  at  the  moment;  if  his  view  varied  it  was  not  so,  and  he 
was  equally  firmly  convinced  the  new  aspect  in  which  it 
appeared  to  him  was  right.  If  you  disagreed  with  him,  or 
attempted  to  argue  it  out  with  him,  he  would  grow  impa 
tient,  and  throw  up  the  game.  He  was  quite  incapable, 
indeed,  of  taking  any  view  of  a  question  but  his  own,  and 
he  never  was  of  the  same  opinion  two  days  together.  Un 
mindful  of  the  spaces  of  thought  that  lay  between  one 
method  of  sentiment  and  another,  he  swooped  to  conclusions 
without  having  really  endeavoured  to  inform  himself  of 
details  before  discussing  them. 

As  to  his  feelings  on  the  political  development  of  Japan, 
so  entirely  conservative  were  his  prejudices,  and  so  intense 
his  dislike  of  the  modernisation  of  the  ancient  civilisation, 
that  he  found  satisfaction  in  the  insulting  remarks  cast  at 
him  as  he  passed  through  the  streets  of  Kobe,  and  in  the 
relinquishing  of  the  instruction  of  English  literature  in 
their  colleges.  He  declared  his  horror  of  the  ironclads 
that  Japan  was  adding  to  her  navy,  a  fishing-boat  with 
tatami  sails,  or  a  sampan  rowed  by  men  in  blue  cotton 
jerkins,  was  to  him  a  far  more  impressive  sight  than  the 
''Splendid  Monster"  that  he  saw  at  Mionoseki.  "Worthy 
of  all  praise,  he  stated,  were  the  laws  in  the  Chinese  sacred 
books,  that  "he  who  says  anything  new  shall  be  put  to 
death,'*  and  "he  who  invents  inventions  shall  be  killed!'' 

341 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Hearn's  literary  judgments  were  as  capricious  and 
biassed  as  his  political  ones.  A  mental  nomad,  he  pitched 
his  tent  in  whatever  camping-ground  he  found  by  the  road 
side,  folding  it  and  moving  on  again  whenever  the  fancy 
prompted  him.  Gautier,  Flaubert,  Tennyson,  Percival 
Lowell,  Edwin  Arnold,  Du  Maurier,  were  some  that  abode 
with  him  for  a  season. 

It  is  doubtful  if  he  had  any  discernment  for  ancient  art, 
until  late  in  his  artistic  career.  His  New  Orleans  Hellen 
ism  wras  the  Hellenism  of  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  in  1870, 
rather  than  the  Hellenism  of  Greece.  He  dedicated  the 
translation  of  Gautier 's  tales  "To  the  Lovers  of  the  Love 
liness  of  the  Antique  World,"  whereas  nothing  was  less 
antique  than  Gautier 's  Parisian  classicism,  with  its  or 
nate  upholstery  and  sensuous  interpretation  of  Greek 
fable.  The  very  fact  of  Hearn's  comparison  between 
the  art  of  Praxiteles  and  Phidias,  and  the  grotesque 
whimsicality  of  Japanese  imaginings,  shows  that  he 
had  not  grasped  the  dignity  and  breadth  of  Greek  cul 
ture.  He  confesses  that  it  was  only  when  he  was  turning 
grey  that  he  really  understood  the  horror  and  the 
beauty,  the  reality  and  the  depth,  of  Greek  legend;  of 
Medusa,  who  freezes  hearts  and  souls  into  stone,  the 
"Sirens  singing  with  white  bones  bleaching  under  their 
women's  breasts,  and  Orpheus,  who  sought  Hell  for  a 
shadow  and  lost  it." 

Hearn  was  a  Latin,  and  follower  of  the  Romantic  in 
contradistinction  to  the  Realistic  school.  "Have  you  ever 
attempted  to  mount  some  old  tower  stairway,  spiring  up 
through  darkness,  and  in  the  heart  of  that  darkness  found 
yourself  at  the  cobwebbed  edge  of  nothing  ?  The  emotional 
worth  of  such  experience — from  a  literary  point  of  view — 
is  proved  by  the  force  of  the  sensations  aroused,  and  by 
the  vividness  with  which  they  are  remembered."  This 
prelude  to  one  of  his  ghostly  Japanese  legends,  with  its 

342 


CONCLUSION 

frisson,  its  suggestion  of  awe,  its  mystery,  its  strangeness, 
breathes  the  very  essence  of  Romanticism. 

Literary  brother  to  Loti  and  Renan  on  his  Celtic-Breton 
side,  with  their  sense  of  style  and  the  rhythm  of  the  phrase, 
Hearn  had  all  the  Celtic  longing  for  something  beyond  the 
elements  of  everyday  life,  gazing  with  longing,  like  the 
man  in  Meredith's  poem,  at  the  mist-veiled  hills  on  the 
other  side  of  the  valley,  losing  his  illusions,  and  sighing  to 
return  when  he  had  attained  to  the  reality  of  the  vision, 
and  found  the  slopes  as  stony,  and  the  paths  as  rugged,  as 
in  the  region  he  had  quitted.  At  New  Orleans  the  Celtic 
spirit  of  vague  unrest  led  him  to  long  for  the  tropics,  or 
the  Spanish  Main;  in  the  West  Indies,  he  regretted  the 
"northern  domain  of  inspiration  and  achievement,"  and 
towards  the  end  of  his  stay  in  Japan,  suffered  from  nos 
talgia  and  the  sense  of  exile  from  the  land  of  his  birth. 
In  spite  of  his  acknowledgment,  however,  of  the  greatness 
of  the  "West,  and  the  appreciation  of  it,  born  of  life  in  an 
alien  land,  he  returned  to  the  memory  of  his  Japanese 
home — the  simple  love  and  courtesy  of  Old  Japan  and  the 
charm  of  the  fairy  world  seized  his  soul  again,  as  a  child 
might  catch  a  butterfly. 

Combined  with  Celtic  melancholy  and  dreaminess,  he 
had  also  inherited,  without  doubt,  some  unhealthiness  of 
mind.  To  all  intents  and  purposes,  he  was  at  times  a 
madman,  and  at  others  certainly  very  near  the  border 
land  of  insanity.  " Mason  is  always  sane,"  he  says, 
"whereas,  for  the  greater  part  of  my  existence,  I  have 
been  insane."  It  was  this  strange,  unforeseen  element  in 
his  nature  that  accounts  for  so  much  that  is  otherwise  in 
explicable.  Impossible  is  it  to  say  how  much  of  the  very 
strength  of  his  work  did  not  proceed  from  nervous  suscepti 
bility.  If  it  made  him  subject  to  moods  of  unreasonable 
suspicion  and  self -tormenting  dejection,  it  also  gave  him 
power  to  see  visions  and  retain  memories. 

343 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

His  excitable  mental  attitude  towards  one  of  the  ordinary 
events  of  a  literary  man's  career,  the  corrections  of  a 
printer's  reader,  "that  awful  man,  without  wrath  and 
wholly  without  pity,  like  the  angels!"  .  .  .  The  yells 
of  anguish  in  bed  at  night,  when  he  thought  of  the  blun 
ders  in  the  proofs  he  had  returned,  discloses  a  piteous  state 
of  highly-wrought  nerves.  Hearn's  strangely  uncontrolled 
nature  is  certainly  a  striking  exemplification  of  the  state 
ment  that  concentration  on  daily  mental  work  is  the  best 
antidote  to  insanity.  During  the  period,  towards  the  end 
of  his  life  at  Tokyo,  when  most  subject  to  attacks  of  coma 
and  mental  hysteria,  he  wrote  his  sanest  book,  a  model  of 
lucid  historical  narrative.  ''Art!  Art!  Bitter  decep 
tion!"  cries  Flaubert.  "  Phantom  that  flows  with  light, 
only  to  lead  one  on  to  ruin."  For  Lafcadio  Hearn,  art 
was  the  one  reality,  the  anchor  that  kept  him  from  drifting 
to  mental  wreckage;  out  of  his  very  industry  and  deter 
mination  grew  a  certain  healthy  habit  of  thought  and  life. 

It  has  been  said  that  Hearn  had  no  creative  ability. 
"With  regard  to  his  capability  of  writing  a  complex  work 
of  fiction,  this  is  perhaps  true,  he  had  forfeited  his  birth 
right  to  produce  a  Pecheur  d'Islande;  but  on  most  of  his 
Japanese  work  his  individuality  is  unmistakably  impressed. 
He  had  a  wonderful  memory  and  was  an  omnivorous  reader. 
To  Chamberlain  he  acknowledged  that  observations  made 
to  him,  and  ideas  expressed,  were  apt  to  reappear  again  in 
work  of  his  own,  having,  after  the  lapse  of  a  certain  amount 
of  time,  become  so  much  a  part  of  his  thought,  that  he 
found  it  "difficult  to  establish  the  boundary  line  between 
meum  and  tuum."  We  can  see  the  verification  of  this 
statement  by  phrases  and  epithets,  inspired  by  other  writ 
ers,  scattered  through  his  pages.  "The  Twilight  of  the 
Gods"  is  an  echo  of  "The  Burden  of  Nineveh."  The  sub 
title,  "Hand  and  Soul,"  of  "Gleanings  in  Buddha  Fields," 
was  taken  from  Rossetti's  prose  romance.  Keats  *s  sonnet 

344 


CONCLUSION 

on  the  "Colour  Blue,"  probably  prompted  his  essay  on 
"Azure-Psychology."  Yet,  in  spite  of  small  borrowings 
here  and  there,  how  inviolate  he  keeps  his  own  character 
istics  and  intimate  method  of  thought!  Percival  Lowell's 
"Soul  of  the  Far  East"  had  enormously  impressed  him, 
even  in  America  before  he  went  to  Japan ;  but  there  is  not 
a  sentence  akin  to  Lowell  in  "Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar 
Japan."  He  knew  Kipling's  writings  from  end  to  end, 
yet  Kipling,  in  his  letters  to  the  Pioneer  on  Japan,  after 
wards  published  in  a  volume  entitled  "From  Sea  to  Sea," 
is  insensibly  more  influenced  by  Hearn  than  Hearn  was 
ever  influenced  by  Kipling. 

As  to  his  knowledge  of  Japan  having  been  gleaned  from 
industriously  exploited  Japanese  sources,  he  himself  would 
have  been  the  first  to  admit  the  truth  of  this  statement. 
Nishida  Sentaro,  Otani,  Amenomori,  all  contributed  experi 
ences,  and  by  this  means  he  came  into  possession  of  ac 
curate  and  living  sources  of  inspiration,  that  acquired  a 
deeper  significance  as  they  passed  through  his  imaginative 
brain.  He  endeavoured,  as  he  says,  to  interpret  the  East 
to  the  West,  on  the  emotional  rather  than  on  the  material 
side.  By  the  perception  of  his  genius  he  enables  us  to  see 
how  the  Japanese  took  natural  manifestations  and  wove 
them  into  religious  creeds,  coarse  and  uncouth,  perhaps, 
at  times,  but  proving  the  vitality  of  the  hearts  of  the  prim 
itive  folk  surrounding  him.  He  recognised  that  the  peo 
ple,  the  man  in  the  rain  coat,  the  peasant  who  tills  the 
rice-fields  and  feeds  the  silk-worms,  and  weaves  the  silk, 
are  those  that  have  laid  the  foundations  of  the  wonderful 
empire.  The  moralising  of  a  decrepit  old  Buddhist  priest, 
the  talk  of  a  peasant  at  the  plough,  the  diary  of  a  woman 
in  indigent  circumstances,  with  her  patient  resignation  and 
acceptance  of  the  cheerless  lot,  are  told  with  pathetic  sim 
plicity  and  realism. 

Querulously  he  complained  that  people  would  not  take 

345 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

him  seriously,  that  they  treated  him  as  a  fabulist.  Inac 
curate  he  may  have  been  in  some  of  the  conclusions  he 
drew  from  superficial  manifestations,  and  his  outbursts  of 
enthusiasm  or  dislike  may  be  too  pronounced  to  please  the 
matter-of-fact  man  who  knows  not  what  enthusiasm  means. 
"It  is  only  in  the  hand  of  the  artist,"  some  one  has  said, 
"that  Truth  becomes  impressive."  You  can  hardly  take 
up  a  newspaper  now-a-days  without  finding  a  quotation 
from  Hearn  on  the  subject  of  Japan.  His  rhythmic  phrases 
seem  to  fall  on  men's  ears  like  bars  of  melodious  music,  his 
picturesque  manner  of  relating  prosaic  incidents  turns 
them  into  poetic  episodes,  convincing  the  most  practical- 
minded  that  in  dealing  with  a  country  like  Japan,  interpre 
tation  does  not  solely  consist  in  describing  the  thing  you 
see,  but  in  the  imaginative  power  that  looks  beyond  and 
visualises  what  is  invisible  to  ordinary  folk.  What  a  per 
sonal  quality  and  profound  significance,  for  instance,  is  to 
be  found  in  his  reverie  in  Hakata,  the  town  of  the  Girdle 
^Weavers,  as  he  stands  in  front  of  the  enormous  bronze  head 
of  Buddha,  and  sees  the  pile  of  thousands  of  metal  mirrors, 
contributed  by  Japanese  women,  to  make  a  colossal  seated 
figure  of  the  god ;  hundreds  had  been  already  used  to  cast 
the  head,  thousands  would  be  needed  to  mould  the  figure — 
an  unpractical  and  extravagant  sacrifice  of  beautiful  things, 
but  to  Hearn  far  more  was  manifest  than  merely  the  gift 
of  bronze  mirrors.  Into  the  depths  of  a  mirror  the  soul 
of  its  owner  is  supposed  to  enter.  Countless  legends  relate 
that  it  feels  all  her  joys  and  pains,  a  weird  sympathy  with 
her  every  emotion;  then  in  his  fanciful,  whimsical  way  he 
conjures  up  shadowy  ideas  about  the  remnants  of  souls,  the 
smiles,  the  incidents  of  home-life  imaged  on  their  sur 
face.  Turning  the  face  of  some  of  the  mirrors,  and  look 
ing  into  their  depths,  he  imagines  the  possibility  of  catch 
ing  some  of  these  memories  in  the  very  act  of  hiding  away. 
"Thus,"  he  ends,  "the  display  in  front  of  the  Buddha 

346 


CONCLUSION 

statue  becomes  far  more  than  what  it  seems.  We  human 
beings  are  like  mirrors,  reflecting  something  of  the  universe, 
and  the  signification  of  ourselves  in  that  universe.  .  .  . 
The  imagery  of  the  faith  of  the  Ancient  East  is,  that  all 
forms  must  blend  at  last  with  that  Infinite  Being,  whose 
smile  is  Eternal  Rest."  Thus  subtly  does  he  interpret  the 
dim,  far-reaching  vision,  and  pathetic  imaginings  of  a  sus 
ceptible  people. 

As  to  Hearn's  veering  round  in  his  opinion  of  the 
Japanese,  which  has  by  some  been  called  insincere  and 
double-faced,  because  while  he  was  drawing  a  salary  from 
the  Japanese  government,  and  adapting  himself  to  Jap 
anese  social  conditions,  he  was  damning  the  Japanese  and 
expressing  his  hatred  of  those  surrounding  him,  the  only 
answer  to  be  given  to  those  who  blame  him  is  to  tell  them 
to  visit  Japan,  to  reside  in  the  primitive  portions  of  the 
country,  with  its  ancient  shrines,  quaint  villages,  courteous 
ways,  and  afterwards  go  to  Tokyo  or  one  of  the  open  ports, 
see  the  modern  Japanese  man  in  bowler  hat  and  American 
clothes — then  and  then  only  will  they  be  able  to  understand 
what  an  artist,  such  as  Hearn,  must  have  suffered  in  watch 
ing  the  transformation  being  effected.  On  the  subject  of 
Old  Japan  he  never  changed  his  opinion,  which  was,  per 
haps,  from  certain  points  of  view,  over-enthusiastic.  This 
very  enthusiasm,  however,  enabled  him  to  accumulate  im 
pressions  which,  if  he  had  been  indifferent,  would  not  have 
stamped  themselves  on  his  imagination.  Hearn's  genius 
was  essentially  subjective,  the  outer  aspect  of  his  work  was 
the  outcome  of  an  inward  vision.  We  should  never  have 
had  this  inward  vision  so  clearly  revealed,  if  it  had  not 
been,  as  it  were,  mirrored  in  a  heart  full  of  sympathy  and 
appreciation.  You  must  strike  an  average  between  his 
admiration  and  dislike  of  the  kingdom  of  his  adoption,  as 
you  must  strike  an  average  in  his  expressions  of  literary 
and  political  opinion. 

347 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

In  consequence  of  Hearn's  railings  against  Fate,  the 
world  has  come  to  the  conclusion  that  his  was  a  particu 
larly  ill-starred  life.  But  the  tragedy  really  lay  in  the 
temperament  of  the  man  himself.  Circumstances  were  by 
no  means  adverse  to  the  development  of  his  genius.  The 
most  salient  misfortune  that  befell  him,  the  loss  of  his  in 
heritance,^  saved  him,  most  likely,  from  artistic  sterility. 
With  his  impressionable  nature,  an  atmosphere  of  wealth 
and  luxury  might  have  paralysed  his  mental  activity.  It 
was  certainly  a  lucky  star  that  led  him  to  New  Orleans, 
and  later  to  the  "West  Indies ;  and  what  a  supreme  piece  of 
good  fortune  was  the  chance  that  came  to  him  of  spending 
the  last  fourteen  years  of  his  life  in  Japan,  before  the 
ancient  civilisation  had  been  swept  away.  It  was  pitiful, 
people  say,  to  think  of  Hearn's  poverty  in  the  end,  but 
when  you  see  his  Tokyo  house,  with  its  speckless  cleanli 
ness,  its  peace,  its  calm,  you  will  no  longer  regret  that  his 
means  did  not  enable  him  to  leave  it.  Japan  was  the  coun 
try  made  for  him,  and  not  the  least  benign  ordinance  that 
Fate  imposed  upon  him  was  his  inability  to  accept  the  in 
vitation,  given  to  him  during  the  last  years  of  his  life,  by 
University  College,  London.  We  can  see  him  amidst  the 
mist  and  fog  in  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  the  great  city,  the 
ugliness  of  its  daily  life  and  social  arrangements :  he  would 
have  quarrelled  with  his  friends,  with  the  university  pro 
fessors,  with  his  landlady,  ending  his  life,  most  likely,  in 
a  London  lodging,  instead  of  sinking  to  rest  surrounded 
by  the  devotion  and  care  of  those  that  loved  him. 

An  intrepid  soldier  in  the  ranks  of  literature  was  Laf- 
cadio  Hearn.  His  work  was  not  merely  literary  material 
turned  out  of  his  brain,  completed  by  his  industrious  hand ; 
to  him  it  was  more  serious  than  life.  He  is,  indeed,  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  examples  of  the  strange  and  per 
sistent  power  of  genius,  "ever  advancing,"  as  he  himself 
expresses  it,  "by  seeking  to  attain  ideals  beyond  his  reach, 

348 


CONCLUSION 

by  the  Divine  Temptation  of  the  Impossible ! "  Well  did 
he  realise  that  the  more  appreciation  for  perfection  a  man 
cherishes,  the  more  instinct  for  art,  the  smaller  will  be  his 
success  with  the  general  public.  But  never  was  his  de 
termination  to  do  his  best  actuated  by  any  hope  of  pe 
cuniary  gain.  From  the  earliest  years  of  his  literary  ca 
reer,  his  delight  in  composition  was  the  pure  delight  of  in 
tellectual  activity,  rather  than  delight  in  the  result,  a  pleas 
ure,  not  in  the  work  but  in  the  working.  According  to 
him,  nothing  was  less  important  than  worldly  prosperity, 
to  write  for  money  was  an  impossibility,  and  Fame,  a  most 
damnable,  infernal,  unmitigated  misery  and  humbug. 

To  enjoy  the  moments  of  delight  in  the  perception  of 
beauty  "in  this  short  day  of  frost  and  sun,"  is  the  only 
thing,  says  Walter  Pater,  that  matters,  and  "the  only  suc 
cess  in  life." 

Judged  from  this  point  of  view,  Hearn's  was  certainly  a 
successful  life.  To  the  pursuit  of  the  beautiful  his  days 
and  years  were  devoted. 

"One  minute's  work  to  thee  denied 
Stands  all  Eternity's  offence" — 

he  quotes  from  Kipling. 

This  it  is  that  gives  his  career  a  certain  dignity  and 
unity,  despite  the  errors  and  blunders  defacing  it  at  vari 
ous  periods.  Man  of  strange  contradictions  as  he  was,  there 
was  always  one  subject  on  which  he  never  was  at  issue  either 
with  himself  or  destiny. 

Like  those  pilgrims  whom  he  describes,  toiling  beside 
him  up  the  ascent  of  Fuji-no-yama,  towards  the  sacred 
peak  to  salute  the  dawn,  so  through  hours  of  suffering  and 
toil,  under  sunshine  and  under  the  stars,  turning  neither 
to  the  right  hand  nor  the  left,  scorning  luxury  and  ease, 
Lafcadio  Hearn  pursued  his  path,  keeping  his  gaze  steadily 
fixed  on  one  object,  his  thoughts  fixed  on  one  aim. 

349 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 

In  one  of  those  eloquent  outpourings,  when  his  pen  was 
touched  with  a  spark  of  divine  fire,  he  gives  expression  to 
the  pervasive  influence  of  the  spirit  of  beauty,  "the  Eter 
nal  Haunter,"  and  the  shock  of  ecstasy,  when  for  a  mo 
ment  she  reveals  herself  to  her  worshipper.  Indescribable 
is  her  haunting  smile,  and  inexpressible  the  pain  that  it 
awakens  .  .  .  her  witchery  was  made  in  the  endless 
ebb  and  flow  of  the  tides  of  life  and  time,  in  the  hopes  and 
desires  of  youth,  through  the  myriad  generations  that  have 
arisen  and  passed  away. 

What  a  lesson  does  Hearn  teach  to  the  sons  of  art  in 
these  days  of  cheap  publication  and  hurried  work.  His 
record  of  stoical  endeavour  and  invincible  patience  ought 
to  be  printed  in  letters  of  gold,  and  hung  on  the  study  wall 
of  all  seeking  to  enter  the  noble  career.  His  re-writing  of 
pages,  some  of  them  fifty  times,  the  manner  in  which  he 
put  his  work  aside  and  waited,  groping  for  something  he 
knew  was  to  be  found,  but  the  exact  shape  of  which  he  did 
not  know.  Like  the  sculptor  who  felt  that  the  figure  was 
already  in  the  marble,  the  art  was  to  hew  it  out. 

As  the  years  went  by,  the  elusive  vision  ceased  to  consist 
merely  of  the  beauty  of  line  and  form,  and  took  the  higher 
beauty  of  immortal  things,  emotions  that  did  not  set  flow 
ing  a  current  of  sensuous  desire  and  passion,  but  appealed 
to  those  impulses  that  stir  man's  higher  life,  making  him 
realise  that  there  are  enthusiasms  and  beliefs  "  which  it 
were  beautiful  to  die  for." 


350 


INDEX 


AKIRA,  168,  170,  316. 

Alma  Tadema,  57. 

Amenomori  Nobushige,  168,  184, 
235,  267. 

American  criticism,  an,  145. 

Ancestor  worship,  Hearn's  views 
on,  143,  144,  149. 

Ancestral  tablet,  the,  253. 

"Ants,"  essay  on,  293. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  59. 

Arnoux,  Leopold,  154. 

Asama-Yama,  144. 

Atkinson,  Mrs.,  4,  13,  217,  301, 
304,  313;  letters  to,  31-48,  56, 
67,  68,  86,  100,  112,  204,  221, 
252;  visits  Japan,  313  et  seq. 

Atkinson,  Mr.  Buckley,  202. 

Atkinson,  Carleton,  4,  49. 

Atkinson,  Dorothy,  313,  317. 

Avatars,  4. 

BAKER,  CONSTANCEJ  334. 

Baker,  Page  M.,  106,  109,  236, 
242. 

Ball,  Sir  F.,  255. 

Bangor,  26. 

Baudelaire,  63. 

Beale,  Mr.  James,  256,  257. 

Behrens,  Mrs.,  284. 

Berry,  Rev.  H.  F.,  43. 

Bisland,  Miss  Elizabeth,  110,  111, 
125,  133,  151,  267;  marriage 
of,  188,  203;  letters  to,  158, 
180;  joint-editor  of  Cosmopoli 
tan,  130. 


Borrow,  George,  274. 

Boston,  261. 

Brenane,  Mrs.  Justin,  2,  14,  15, 

16,  21,  23,  26,  30. 
Bridges,  Robert,  quoted,  303. 
British  Museum,  image  of  Buddha 

in,  57. 

Bronner,  Milton,  61. 
Brown,  Mr.,  202. 
Brownings,  the,  59,  324. 
Buddha  of  Enoshima,  331,  332. 
Buddhism,  42,  141,  144. 
Butcher,  Miss,  16. 

CALIDAS,  146. 

Chamberlain,    Basil     Hall,     112, 

165,  206;  letters  to,  116,  169, 

177,  191. 

"Chinese  Ghosts,"  109. 
"Chita,"  35,  36. 
Cholera  at  Kobe,  241. 
Cincinnati,  53,  65  et  seq. 
Cincinnati  Brotherhood,  114. 
Civilisation,  attack  on,  249. 
Cockerill,  Colonel  John,  74. 
Collins,  Wilkie,  60. 
Commercial,    The,    Hearn    joins, 

86. 
"Concerning     Lafcadio     Hearn" 

(G.  M.  Gould),  69. 
Conventual  Orders,  2. 
Corbishly,  Monsignor,  41,  42,  44. 
Corfu,  6-9. 
Correagh,  2,  8. 
Crawford,  Mrs.,  18,  21. 


351 


INDEX 


Crescent  City,  94. 
Crosby,  Lieutenant,  133. 
Cullinane,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  53,  64. 

"DAD."    8ee  Watkin. 

Dai  Batsu  of  Enoshima,  331. 

Dai  Batsu  of  Kamakura,  142. 

"Dancing  Girl,  The,"  194. 

Darwin,  Charles,  59,  60,  140. 

Daunt,  Mr.  Achilles,  46,  48,  52. 

Delaney,  Catherine,  53,  58. 

Dengue  fever,  100. 

De  Quincey,  289. 

"Dragon  Flies,"  285. 

"Dream  of  a  Summer's  Day,"  24. 

Dublin,  5,  10,  et  seq. 

Du  Maurier,  63. 

"Dust,"  Hearn's  essay  on,  49. 

ELWOOD,  FRANK,  25. 
Elwood,  Mrs.,  24. 
Elwood,  Robert,  24,  25. 
Emerson,  Miss  Margaret,  311. 
Enquirer,  The,  Hearn  on  staff  of, 

74-79. 
"Eternal    Feminine,"    article   on, 

281. 
"Exotics     and     Retrospectives," 

282,  283,  294. 

"FANTASTICS,"  126. 

"First  Principles,"  Spencer's,  141. 

Flaubert,  Gustave,  43. 

Foley,  Althea,  81,  83,  180. 

Ford  Castle,  3. 

Formosa,  200. 

Forrest,  General,  funeral  of,  90. 

Foxwell,  Professor,  120,  278. 

Franco-Prussian  War,  62. 

Froude,  James,  153. 

Fuji,  first  sight  of,  162. 

Fuji-no- Yama,  144,  311. 


Fujisaki,  Captain,  286. 

"GARDEN  FOLK  LORE,"  189. 
Gautier,  The"ophile,  62. 
"Ghostly  Japan,"  283,  284. 
"Gleanings    in    Buddha    Fields," 

273,  280. 
"Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar  Japan," 

163,  172,  268,  329. 
Gould,  Dr.  George  Milbury,  69, 

149,  158. 

Greek  culture,  342. 
Gulf  winds,  35. 

HALL,  H.  H.,  282. 

Halstead,  Mr.,  88. 

Hamamura,  cemetery  of,  9. 

Hana,  297. 

Harper's  Weekly,  137. 

Harrison,  Frederic,  143. 

Hawkins,  Armand,  104. 

Hearn,  Lafcadio,  birth,  1,  9; 
Hibernian  ancestors,  2;  Eng 
lish  origin,  2;  the  interpreter 
of  Buddhism,  4;  maternal 
lineage,  4,  5;  Hellenic  associa 
tions  of  birthplace,  9;  mem 
ories  of  Malta,  10;  reminis 
cences  of  childhood,  17; 
separation  of  his  parents,  20; 
adopted  by  Mrs.  Brenane,  21; 
his  defective  eyesight,  29,  45, 
48;  relations  with  Mr.  Moly- 
neux,  30 ;  views  of  ideal  beauty, 
36;  at  Tramore,  37;  at  school 
at  Ushaw,  40;  literary  tastes 
at  school,  43;  unattractive  ap 
pearance,  49;  in  London,  52  et 
seq.;  literary  vocation,  55; 
Paris,  62;  Cincinnati,  65;  his 
shyness,  66 ;  reaches  the  depths, 
68;  servant  in  boarding-house, 


352 


INDEX 


69;  secretaryship,  74;  on  staff 
of  Enquirer,  74;  ascends  Cin 
cinnati  church  spire,  76;  his 
translations,  76;  and  Althea 
Foley,  81;  and  Marie  Levaux, 
85;  joins  staff  of  The  Commer 
cial,  85;  at  Memphis,  88;  des 
titution,  94;  fever,  100;  Times 
Democrat,  105;  method  of  ar 
gument,  112;  intellectual  iso 
lation,  112;  intolerance  of 
amateur  art,  114;  characteris 
tics,  120;  visits  West  Indies, 
131;  letters,  135;  marriage, 
134,  179-186;  arrangement 
with  Harpers,  137;  political 
opinions,  142;  visits  Mr.  Wat- 
kin,  148;  the  Krehbiels,  148, 
149;  musical  sense,  151;  ar 
rives  in  Yokohama,  160;  ter 
minates  contract  with  Harpers, 
164;  Professor  Chamberlain, 
165;  philosophical  opinions 
and  character,  167;  appoint 
ment  in  Matsue,  168;  Japanese 
estimate  of,  176;  passion  for 
work,  184;  family,  200;  nat 
uralisation,  220;  symptoms  of 
physical  failure,  242;  devotion 
to  family,  260;  emotional 
trances,  288;  love  of  animals, 
292;  death,  299,  et  seq.;  his 
religion,  310;  funeral,  310; 
children,  336 ;  personality,  339 ; 
biassed  deductions,  341;  lit 
erary  judgments,  342;  his  ro 
manticism,  343 ;  quotations 
from,  346;  his  opinion  of 
Japanese,  347;  estimate  of  his 
work,  348,  349. 

Hearn,  Charles  Bush,  4,  6,  7,  10, 
15,  16,  21,  22,  202. 


Hearn,  Mrs.  Charles,  4,  10,  12, 
14,  21. 

Hearn,  Mrs.,  150;  "Reminis 
cences"  of,  276. 

Hearn,  Rev.  Daniel,  2,  16,  61, 
202. 

Hearn,  Leopold  Kazuo,  219. 

Hearn,  Rev.  Thomas,  2. 

Hearn,  Miss,  3. 

Hearn,  Miss  Lilian,  202,  203. 

Hearn,  Richard,  10  et  seq.,  150. 

Hearn,  Susan,  10  et  seq. 

Hearn  family  in  Waterford,  2. 

Henderson,  Mr.  Edmund,  74,  76. 

Hendrik,  Ellwood,  125,  263;  let 
ters  to,  154,  177,  261. 

Heron,  Francis,  3. 

Heron,  Sir  Hugh  de,  3. 

Hijo,  189. 

Him,  Professor,  letter  to,  67. 

Holmes,  Elizabeth,  5. 

Hugo,  Victor,  62. 

Huxley,  Professor,  60,  141. 

ICHIGAYA,  311. 

"Idolatry,"   37. 

Imperial    University,    Japanese, 

330. 

"In  Ghostly  Japan,"  145. 
"Insect  Studies,"  293. 
"Intuition,"  71. 
Ionian  Islands,  5. 
Izumo,  262. 

JAPAN,  discipline  of  official  life 
in,  54;  spirit  of,  229;  old 
Japan,  347. 

"Japan,  an  Attempt  at  Inter 
pretation,"  297. 

Japanese  character,  analysis  of, 
176. 

Japanese  constitution  promul 
gated,  158. 


353 


INDEX 


Japanese  day,  a,  206. 
Japanese  funeral,  a,  312. 
"Japanese  Miscellany,  A,"  284. 
Japanese  regimen,  231. 
Japanese  school  classes,  201. 
Japanese    training    of    children, 

211. 

Jefferies,  Richard,  289. 
Jitom  Kobduera  Temple,  311. 
Jiu-jitsu,  201. 
Jizo-Do  Temple,  315. 

KENTUCKY,  72. 

Keogh,  Miss  Agnes,  50. 

Kinegawa,  233. 

Kingsley,  Charles,  277. 

Kinjuro,  189,  191. 

Kipling,  Rudyard,  233,  271,  324, 

345. 

Kitinagasa,  Dori,  243. 
Kobduera,  Temple  of,  261. 
Kobe,  168,  193. 
Kobe  Chronicle,  168,  248. 
Koizumi,  Mrs.   Setsu,  3,   27,  60, 

286,  300,  308,  314  et  seq.,  334; 

"Reminiscences"  of,  122;  letter 

of,  309. 

Koizumi,  Idaho,  325. 
Koizumi,  Iwayo,  325. 
Koizumi,  Kazuo,  4,  217,  277,  300, 

312,  317  et  seq.,  337. 
Koizumi,  Setsu-ko,  307,  321,  325, 
,r.  335. 

"Kokoro,"  65,  109,  249,  251,  266. 
Krehbiel,   Henry,   5,   26,    74,    78, 

79,  104,  112,  114,  152. 
Kumamoto,  13,  65,  193,  199. 
Kusa-Hibari   (grass-lark),  295. 
Kusimoki  marahige,  240. 
"Kwaidan,"  24. 
Kyoto,  252. 


Kyushu,  200. 

"LADY  OP  A  MYRIAD  SOULS" 
(Miss  Bisland),  113,  124-136. 

Lamb,  Charles,  289. 

Levaux,  Marie,  85. 

"Life  and  Letters  of  Lafcadio 
Hearn"  (Wetmore),  263. 

Literary  College,  Tokyo,  3. 

Loti,  Pierre,  29,  84. 

Lough  Corrib,  25,  233. 

Louisiana,  92. 

Lowell,  Percival,  345. 

"Luck  of  Roaring  Camp"  (Bret 
Harte),  77. 

MALTA,  5,  10. 

Martinique,  155. 

Mason,  Mr.  W.  B.,  122,  143,  287, 

313,  315. 

Matas,  Dr.  Rudolf,  102,  152. 
Matsue,  142,  168,  172-178. 
McDermott,  Mr.,  73. 
McDonald,    Capt.    Mitchell,    108, 

126,    168,    267,   271,   276,   284, 

287,  299,  324,  333. 
Memphis,  88-92. 
"Midwinter,  Ozias,"  60,  89,  98. 
Mifflin,  Houghton  &  Co.,  208. 
Millet,  Frangois,  62. 
Mionoseki,  ironclads  at,  341. 
Moje,  238. 
Molyneux,   Henry,   and   Mrs.,   2, 

23,  28,  30,  50,  69. 
Montreal,  160. 
"Moon  Desire,"  290. 
Morris,  William,  59. 
"Mountain  of  Skulls,"  145. 
"My  First  Romance,"  67. 
"My  Guardian  Angel,"  29. 
Mythen,  Kate,  28,  36. 


354 


INDEX 

Shinto  worship,  41,  144,  168. 


NAGASAKI,  212,  232. 

New  Orleans,  60,  85,  93-101; 
yellow  fever  at,  100;  Exposi 
tion  at,  137. 

New  York,   131. 

"Nightmare  Touch,"  28. 

Nishi  Okubo,  261,  269,  286  et  seq.       Steinmetz,  General,  118. 

Nishida  Sentaro,   168,    181,   184,       Stevenson,  R.  L.,  28,  63,  289. 
265,  345. 


"Shirabzoshi"  or  "Dancing  Girl," 

193. 

Shunki  Korei-sai,  319. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  cited,  60,  139- 

143,  168,  324,  335. 


"Stray  Leaves,"  109,  126. 

Suruga,  34. 

"Sylvestre  Bonnard,"  43. 


OKUMA,  COUNT,  307. 

Osaka,  238. 

0  Saki,  308. 

Otani,  323. 

Otokichi,  280,  308. 

"Out  of  the  East,"  232,  243,  315.      Tennyson,  59. 

Thomson,  Francis,  40. 

PAPELLIEB,  DE.,  243,  250,  270.  "Toko,  The,"  204. 

Pater,  Walter,  59,  349.  Tokvo'  67>  26°  et  se(*"  313' 

Philadelphia,  131,  261. 
Pre-Raphaelites,  aims  of,  59. 


TAKATA,  25. 

Tanabe,    Professor,    312,    321    et 
seq.,  328. 


"Torn  Letters,"  129. 
Toyama,  Professor,  254. 


"Principles  of  Ethics"  (Spencer),      Tramore,  2,  20,  28,  31,  33-39. 


cited,  140. 

RACHEL,  picture  of,  71,  72. 

"Raven,  The,"  73. 

Redhill,  30,  45. 

"Romance  of  the  Milky  Way,  A," 

298. 

Rossetti,  D.  G.,  59. 
Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  340. 
Ruskin,  59,  288. 
Sackville,  Lionel,  Duke  of  Dorset,, 

2. 

"ST.  RONITE,"  44. 
Santa  Maura,  1,  9. 
Schurmann,  J.  G.,  305,  306. 
Seaton,  Viscount,  7. 
"Serenade,  A,"  146. 
Setsu-ko   (Koizumi),  307,  321. 
"Shadowings,"  284. 


Treves,  Sir  Frederick,  153. 

"Trilby,"  63. 

Tunison,  Mr.  Joseph,  22,  45,  61, 

79,  152. 
"Two  Years  in  the  French  West 

Indies,"  108,  152. 
Tyndall,  60. 

"UJO,"  189. 
Ume,  Professor,  330. 
Ushaw,  28,  29,  36,  40-51. 
Ushigome,  274-285. 

VICKEES,  THOMAS,  74. 
"Voodoo  Queen,"  85. 

WASEDA  UNIVEESITT,  301,  307. 

Waterford,  34. 

Watkin,  Henry  ("Dad"),  44,  65, 

66,  70,   73,   90,   100,   112,   147, 

102,  235,  258. 


355 


INDEX 

Watkin,  Miss  Effie,  258.  Wrennal,  Father  William,  46. 
Weatherall,  Mrs.,  quoted,  18,  19, 

221«  YAIDZU,  34,  279,  290. 

Weldon,  Charles,  159.  "Yakumo,"  221. 

West   Indies,   Hearn   in,    148   et  Yashiki  garden,  260. 

SGV-  Yokohama,  270,  313. 

Westmeath,  2,  8.  Yone  Noguchi,  185,  263,  301,  318, 
Wetmore,    Mrs.     (Miss    Bisland          334. 

q.  v.),  273,  282,  299,  305,  307.  Young,  Mr.  Eobert,  143,  247,  313. 

Wexford,  36.  Young,  Mrs.,  246. 

Whistler,  James,  59,  63.  "Yuko,"  233. 

Wiseman,    Cardinal,    at    Ushaw,  Yvetot,  61 

40. 

Worthington,  Mr.,  106.  ZOSHIGAYA,  278. 


356 


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